


Things That Never Age

by wraith816



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Sweethearts, Community: spn_j2_bigbang, M/M, Podfic Available, School Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-13
Updated: 2009-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraith816/pseuds/wraith816
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen Ackles leads the most ordinary of lives. Still living in the town he grew up in, teaching social studies at the school he graduated from...it's not exactly the grand future he once dreamed of. But when he attends his ten year reunion and runs into his ex-boyfriend - up and coming director Jared Padalecki - Jensen finds himself faced with the reemergence of old feelings and a choice he never anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue & Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spn_j2_bigbang 2009, with art by smiledrawinglie ([here](http://smiledrawinglie.livejournal.com/25060.html)) and violettestars ([here](http://violettestars.livejournal.com/21357.html)). Also available as a [podfic](http://audiofic.jinjurly.com/things-that-never-age) read by chemm80 and [podbook](http://audiofic.jinjurly.com/things-that-never-age-audiobook) compiled by cybel.
> 
> Many thanks to sgflutegirl who was incredibly supportive through the writing process, and to egotists for the wonderful beta.

  
**Prologue**   


_August 1998_

Jensen's fairly certain that the term 'disaster area' best describes the state of Jared's room in this moment, even more so than usual. Though he'd been planning on going in, Jensen can't make it past the doorway, let alone get to Jared. Clothes cover the floor, books cover the clothes, and there are leftover class notes on top of _those_. Not even the bed has been spared; it's barely visible under stacks of cardboard packing boxes. And in the middle of all the chaos, Jared occupies the sole bit of clear carpet, sitting with his legs folded and his attention on a half-full box in front of him. Jensen kicks aside a little of the mess and says, "I don't think that box holds the secret of life or anything."

With a forming smile, Jared looks up to watch Jensen fight his way in through the disarray. "I'm trying to figure out if I can fit the N64 in here. If anything's the meaning of life, it's video games."

"That might be true, but you probably shouldn't bring it anyway. I don't wanna have to deal with your whining when you've failed all your classes 'cause you were busy playing Super Mario."

Jared snorts and sticks a pile of game cartridges in the box anyway. "Did you come here to help me pack or to insult me?"

"A little of both. I was actually hoping for some pre-goodbye sex, but it looks like there's no way we're fitting on your bed anytime soon."

"Plus, my parents have been in and out of here all afternoon. That wouldn't end well." His nose crinkles in an expression of disgust. "Hand me that controller there, will you?"

Jensen picks up the requested item, steps over a pile of underwear, and finally makes it to Jared's side, handing the Nintendo controller to him. "I'll settle for some making out, I guess. _After_ you finish this."

"Aw, c'mon, I'm almost done! Most of this is stuff I'm leaving here." Jared turns his best pleading face on Jensen. "I've been working for hours and I deserve a break."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jensen says, "I'm immune to the begging eyes by now, Padalecki. _Pack_!"

"All right, all right! But since you're such a nice guy, you'll start taking boxes down to the truck for me, right?"

"I'm not doing your dirty work," Jensen grumbles, but he's already reaching towards the bed for a box. "Would serve you right if I chucked this all in the trash."

"Do that and you lose my vote."

"Good thing I'm more of a behind the scenes guy, then."

"You're still sure? I mean, Senator Ackles kinda has a ring to it."

"Yes. And even if I weren't, I wouldn't want your liberal Hollywood elite support anyway. I'd be the working man's candidate." Jensen hefts a box into his arms, face contorting with exaggerated effort. "See? This is what most of us call 'work,' which you wouldn't know, sitting behind a camera all day."

"You won't be calling me lazy anymore when my awesome directorial fame and humongous paychecks fund our kick-ass lifestyle."

"You might wanna hold off on planning your vision of our money-filled future until we've actually finished college. Or even started it." Jensen walks to the door, box in his hands. "Stop distracting me and pack!" he calls over his shoulder.

It takes Jensen a good hour to haul all of Jared's things down to the garage and into his father's truck, all while Jared's still in his room, on his butt, trying to shove every last piece of his wardrobe into one smallish suitcase. Jensen considers it a sign of his astounding maturity – and of how far gone he is over Jared – that he doesn't complain. Busy lifting the last box into its precarious spot, he doesn't immediately hear Jared coming up behind him, not until Jared's carelessly flinging his suitcase in alongside the boxes Jensen had just so precisely arranged. Jared shuts the tailgate and says, "That's it. Done! Making out now?"

There's a ridiculous amount of eagerness in Jared's voice, and it sends Jensen into a fit of laughter. "Jeeze, think with your dick, much?"

"Hey, don't blame me; you're the one who suggested it. You promised me making out." Jared reaches for him then, winding an arm around Jensen's waist to pull him in, pressing them together, chest to chest. "I might have a better idea, though."

"Yeah, and what would that be?" Jensen leans closer, teasingly within kissing distance.

"I don't think my mom'll mind if we grab dinner, s'long as I'm not back too late." It's clear from the hopeful look on Jared's face and the press of his hand on Jensen's lower back, that while, knowing Jared, he fully intends on getting dinner, that's not all that he's planning for the evening.

"You sure? I don't wanna ruin your last chance at a homemade meal."

"Food's good, but I like sneaking off to have sex better." Jared leans in to leave a lingering kiss low on Jensen's neck. His mouth still against skin, he begs, "C'mon, Jensen, live a little."

"All right, but you're buying."

Jared smiles excitedly. "I'll go grab my wallet."

They're ready to go few minutes later, Jared sprawling his lanky legs as much as he can in the cramped passenger seat of Jensen's junker of a car. "I just gotta be back by nine so I can actually get some sleep tonight," he says. "Can't believe we're leaving at four fucking thirty."

"That's what you get for going to school in California."

"Like you going all the way to D.C. is any better." Jared pauses for a moment, and then, quieter, says, "This fucking sucks. I mean, I knew it was gonna suck, but I didn't think it would be this bad. Why the hell'd we have to go in opposite directions?"

Jensen could remind him about their independent goals, about college applications sent out weeks before they came together. Jensen could finally say that he doesn't want Jared to leave, that he doesn't want to take the chance that this could change things. He settles for asking, "You're sure you don't want me to be there tomorrow morning?"

"No, making you get up that early'd just be mean. I'll call you as soon as we get there, though."

Jensen's about to start the car when he remembers. "Oh, hey, I got something for you." He leans over Jared and pops the glove box open, taking out the gift and tossing it into Jared's lap.

Jared picks up the stack of prepaid long-distance calling cards tied together in sparkly pink ribbon and examines it with a half-smile. "Wow. These'll be useful. Thanks, man."

Jensen wants to laugh it off, or maybe joke about using the cards for phone sex, but like many times before, he thinks about the space that will be between them, nearly the entire country separating them as they each chase their futures. Instead, he says, "Just...call a lot, all right?"

"'Course I will. We're gonna make this work, you'll see." Jared smiles, all his certainty there for Jensen to see. "Now where d'you wanna eat?"

  
**Part One**   


_2008_

Jensen sets his notes down on the desk, looks out at the half-asleep group before him, and asks, "So, who can tell me about what kind of problems the Electoral College can pose?" Not a single hand goes up. Jensen didn't really expect to get an answer, so the silence isn't surprising. All eyes are on the clock on the back wall, and everyone in the room, even Jensen, watches each increasingly painful second tick by. "Anybody?" He resists the urge to sigh. "Okay...Kristin, how about you tell us?"

Kristin, who had spent most of class passing notes in the back of the room, leafs half-heartedly through her notebook to stall for a moment before saying, "Um, it makes it so candidates only really campaign in states with a lot of electoral votes?"

"All right, there we go. Yes, candidates tend to focus their campaigning on states that have more electoral votes while bypassing smaller states completely. That's just one of the several reasons why a lot of people aren't happy with the system." Glancing at the clock yet again, Jensen makes a decision. "But we've only got couple of minutes left, so we'll stop there without discussing the rest. There will be a quiz on the Electoral College tomorrow, so you better be familiar with this stuff, guys. And don't forget that your presidential candidate profiles are due Monday, no exceptions. You're free to go."

Permission given, his previously zombie-like students break into a flurry of movement, gathering papers and books and bags, shuffling out of the classroom as quickly as possible. Jensen leans against his desk, watching them leave, nearly as eager as the teenagers to go, and as the last of them steps out with a _goodbye, Mr. Ackles_ , he grabs his keys. He shuts off the lights and leaves, locking the empty room behind him, and makes his way down the halls, past the office, and to the teachers' lounge, dodging groups of students as he walks.

The teachers' lounge at Goodson High School isn't anything remarkable; in fact, Jensen's pretty sure it's exactly like every other staff room in every other under-funded public school in the country. There are chairs and tables to match those in the lunch room, a refrigerator, and a couple of nearly threadbare couches. The bell hasn't rung yet, and it's mostly empty when Jensen arrives, though Mike is there already, sitting at the table as he enthusiastically digs into a tray of cafeteria mush covered in congealing cheese. Jensen grabs his much more appetizing lunch out of the fridge and sits.

"You look happy," Mike says around a mouthful of so-called food.

"I'm ready to strangle my entire government class. It's like they're trying to redefine senioritis. This year can't end soon enough."

"Dude, we've only got a few weeks left. And your day does _not_ compare to mine. I caught Mitch Levi jerking off in the second floor bathroom in the middle of second period."

"What the hell? Ugh, that's disgusting."

"Yeah, I coulda done without ever having walked in on that. At least he had the stall door closed; I don't even wanna think about the alternative." He makes a disgusted noise.

"At least you're not the one who has to call his parents. That conversation's going to set a new bar for awkward," Jensen points out.

"Dude, can you imagine Johnston on the phone with them? That's not gonna be pleasant." Mike shudders at the thought before digging back in to his lunch. "Oh, by the way, I haven't gotten a RSVP from you for the reunion yet," he says after a moment.

This is the conversation Jensen's been dreading since Mike first handed him the damned invitation. He sets down his fork and cringes, just a little, before answering, "That's because I'm not going."

"Jensen–"

"Don't even start. I'm _not going_."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I don't want to," Jensen answers, his voice strained.

"That's no reason! You do things you don't want to all the time."

"And most of them are because you drag me into it."

"That's because you'd be boring as all hell if I didn't. C'mon, we'll make fun of everyone who's got a crappier job than us. And the jocks, Jensen! What about the out-of-shape jocks? They deserve mocking. It'll be fun!"

"I'm not going to the damned reunion."

"You're going to abandon your very best friend, the one who has put massive amounts of work into this thing as head of the Class of '98 Reunion Committee, because you're an antisocial fuckwit?"

"Mike, you are the _only_ member of the Reunion Committee. And I'm not antisocial. Paying an arm and a leg for mediocre catering and forced conversation with people I didn't like even in high school isn't exactly my idea of a good time."

"Hey, the catering isn't going to be mediocre. I checked them out myself." He looks almost affronted.

"Yeah, because you've got such great taste." He points to Mike's nearly empty plate of cafeteria 'food' with a roll of his eyes.

"You wound me." Mike overdramatically clutches at his heart. "And don't change the subject! You don't have to stay for the whole thing, just stick around for the meal and then you can go. I'll even pay for your dinner."

"Why're you so hot for me to go?"

"'Cause it ain't a party without you there, sugar-lips," he croons, making the most disturbing kiss-y face Jensen's ever seen. "Plus, I can't be the only representative of the 'Never Left Goodson' Club."

"One more reason for me not to go. You expect me to tell all these people that I'm lame enough to still be stuck at the school we graduated from?"

"Well, I was more thinking that you'd tell them that we're international spies or porn directors or something equally awesome sounding."

"Yeah, 'cause they'll believe that."

Mike sighs. "Really, Jensen–"

"Wow, you're using your serious voice."

"Damn right I am. I've put a fuck-ton of work into the reunion and I'd really appreciate it if you'd show up, at least just for a little while. And yeah, you'll probably be your stupid awkward self and not talk to anybody, but maybe, _maybe_ you'll have some actual fun that involves interacting with other people for once."

The way Jensen sees it, there are two ways he can deal with Mike's continued begging. He can continue to resist and just suffer through it, or give in, deal with the few hours of torture, and then finally get some peace. Faced with those prospects, it's not much of a choice. "All right, I'll go, if it'll get you off my back. But only for an hour or two, and you're paying for it."

"Yes!" Mike pumps a fist in the air. "I knew you'd cave eventually."

"I mean it. You pay for everything, even my bar tab, got it?"

"I promise."

"And when I want to leave, you don't stop me. Don't pull this begging crap again."

"I swear on the grave of my dearly departed goldfish that I won't make you stick around for the slide show."

Jensen shakes his head. "I don't know why the hell I ever listen to you."

"Because if you didn't have me, you'd be a lonely, crazy old cat lady. But a guy instead. And without cats." Mike stands abruptly and smacks Jensen lightly on the shoulder. "I'll put you down on the RSVP list first thing when I get home. Now I gotta get back down to the lab; we're blowing shit up today. The wonders of chemistry!" He enthusiastically bounds off, leaving Jensen with his empty cafeteria tray and only a few minutes to finish lunch.

* * * * *

Jensen makes it through the rest of the school year, despite the apathy of his senior government class, though he's tempted more than once to fail them all. From the moment Principal Johnston hands out the last diploma at graduation, Jensen's determined to sleep through the entire vacation like a well-earned summertime hibernation. Jensen considers this an awesome plan, at least until one mid-June Saturday afternoon when Mike shows up on his doorstep in the ugliest suit known to man and says, "Yeah, I know, you forgot about the reunion. That's okay, we've got time. Just get your ass inside and let's get you ready to go."

Jensen's still confused as Mike pushes his way inside. "What are you talking about?" he asks around a yawn.

"The class reunion. The one you promised you'd go to, _for me_."

"You still insist on making me go to this thing?" Jensen crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. This impending self-humiliation is far from what he'd been planning to do on his Saturday night.

" _Promised_ , Jensen. You promised."

"Mike–"

"No, don't even try to get out if it. You said you'd go and you're going and that's it." Mike mirrors Jensen's stance, arms crossed stubbornly. "Why're you so dead-set against going? You trying to avoid something?"

"Yeah, I am. Our entire graduating class. Who I planned on never seeing ever again."

"You're coming if I have to knock you out and stuff you in my friggin' trunk."

"Hell no, if I'm stuck without a car, you'll make me stay the entire time."

"You can bring your own car and follow me there, but you are coming to the damned reunion."

"Okay, yes, I'm coming. Like I told you I would. I just need to get ready," Jensen says resignedly.

"Finally! Now where the hell do you keep your nice clothes?" Mike starts to take the stairs two at a time.

"Oh no, no way, you can wait down here. If I have to go to this thing, I gotta shower first. Anyway, the last thing I want is you going through my closet."

"Yeah, 'cause there's only room for your gay self in there."

"Can we make it one day without an 'in the closet' joke? Please?"

"Maybe, but that day is not today. Go, get clean and dressed. And come back in a better mood. I'll just be here helping myself to your cable." He hops off the stairs and crosses the room to plop himself down on the sofa, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. Jensen marvels at Mike for a moment, and then turns to go upstairs, trying to remember where he put the least ugly of the ties his mother has bought him over the years.

* * * * *

Several hours later, Jensen's cursing Mike, the school, NSync, the cost of the gas it took to get to Dallas, and life in general. Things sucked from the start. Mike had rented a hotel ballroom in the city for the event, and the drive had been excruciatingly bad thanks to traffic and Jensen's ever-mounting dread. He spent every minute since he walked into the place, large _Welcome Goodson High Class of 1998!_ banner hanging over the doors, regretting how easily he gave in to Mike's begging. There'd been a particularly torturous hour running around to help finish setting up the incredibly cheesy decorations: balloons and streamers, sparkly confetti and posters of blown-up yearbook photos, all of it trimmed out in the school colors. By the time the first people start arriving, Jensen is rumpled, a little sweaty, and thoroughly annoyed. That's when Mike ditches him, bouncing around the room to play the happy host, saying hello to each new arrival and using his few free moments only to ask the DJ to play the kind of terrible pop songs that are best left to die in the 90's.

Which leaves Jensen standing near the bar, forced to nurse his drink in the company of one Brenda Dresser, former homecoming queen contender. She's average height with dyed blonde hair and enough cleavage showing to have any straight guy drooling all over himself – the kind of girl who never would have given Jensen the time of day ten years ago. Now, however, she seems perfectly content to talk Jensen's ear off.

"Oh, yeah, I think I remember you now," she says. "You were one of those guys on debate team or model UN or something, right?"

"Yeah." Jensen sips his drink, looking anywhere but at Brenda because he knows where her questions are inevitably going, and just thinking about it has him feeling the beginnings of a dull pain in his head.

"We didn't have any classes together, did we?"

"No, we didn't."

"That is too bad." She lays a hand lightly on Jensen's forearm before he can pull away. "If we did, maybe I could've gotten to know you better. So what did you end up doing after graduation?"

"Um, college, first. Teaching high school now." He doesn't tell her where.

"That sounds nice. I work at a department store, at least until I save up enough money to enroll in some classes, but that won't be for a while. I live just a couple of towns away, actually." Brenda looks pointedly from where she's still touching Jensen down to his left hand. "So, you're a teacher...are you married? Kids? Dating anyone?"

And there's the question Jensen knew was coming, and has spent the entire conversation trying to figure out how to answer decisively without flying a rainbow flag. He settles on, "I'm not really looking for a relationship right now."

"Really?" She pouts a little, like kid who's been told she can't have another cookie, which Jensen thinks looks pretty damned undignified. But he's saved from further inquiry into his love life when Brenda's interrupted by another similarly over-perky woman who drags her off to discuss what became of their various former friends.

It can only get more awkward from there.

Jensen talks to at least three more women who try to flirt with him. There's Sarah Pearson, once a band geek; Tara Mancini, former basketball star; and Gina McHugh, who sat next to him in AP History class junior year. He turns them down as politely as he can, and in Sarah's case, desperately hides behind a fake tree when her disgruntled-looking husband comes by. Jensen also catches up with Molly and Joe Atwater, who were both in debate with him. They got married three years after graduation and have a baby on the way. He speaks with a guy named Dave, who he didn't know in school, and who's living in Tulsa and tending bar. Senior Class President Juan Martinez, now a lawyer in Houston, tells him, "Weren't you all gung ho for government stuff? Thought I woulda seen you on a ballot by now, or backing up some politician at press conferences."

 _I thought so too_ , Jensen thinks, but doesn't say.

After that, the massive amount of people clamoring to talk to anyone in the vicinity seems to slow to a trickle, and Jensen stays where he is, glad to have at least a minute of relative peace. It's not any quieter though, since a big group inexplicably begins to gather in the opposite corner of the room, the low buzz of their chatter filling the place. Even with the moment to himself, the slight pain of a headache that had begun somewhere behind Jensen's eyes is becoming a steadier throb. He quickly downs the rest of his drink, checks that the way to the door is clear, and decides to make a break for it. He's almost home free, just a few strides away from the exit, when Mike practically jumps out in front of him.

"Dude, where're you going?" Mike asks. "They're doing dinner in a few minutes."

"I'm just getting some air."

Mike's eyes narrow. "Uh-huh. You're a shitty liar, you know; you're trying to sneak out. I paid for it, so you at least need to stay to eat. Please?"

There go Jensen's plans of running away. He resigns himself and says, "I'm not leaving, I promise. Just going outside for a break. I can only take so many of the Backstreet Boys' greatest hits before I go insane."

"Don't lie, bitch, you love it. You know you had a hard on for Nick Carter."

"I think you're getting you and me confused again. You're the one who's trying to kill us all with boy bands. Now let me just get some air."

"But you're coming back."

"Yes, Mike, I will be back in a few minutes. Go! Do...whatever you've been doing all night."

"Okay, okay, I'll see you later," Mike says, traipsing off towards the bartender and leaving Jensen to head into the hotel's lobby.

It's mostly empty at this point, just a couple of staff, a few people from the reunion milling around, and Jensen walks on through to the front doors. Outside, it's a warm night, clear with no wind, but still more comfortable than stuffiness of the ballroom. He spies a bench in a poorly lit spot a few feet from the doors and sits, slouching forward and gripping the edge of the rough wood nearly hard enough to hurt. He takes a deep breath of night air and idly wonders if he has any Advil in his glove compartment.

He's there ten, maybe fifteen minutes, sitting and watching traffic pass on the nearby road, when he hears the automatic doors swish open again and someone approaches. Whoever it is asks, "Mind sharing the bench? It was getting a little crowded in there for me."

Jensen _knows_ that voice. His head snaps up with the recognition, looking at the new arrival, and despite the dim light and the years since they've spoken, the man's features are familiar. "Jared?"

"Jensen?" Jared's jaw drops in obvious surprise. They stare at each other for a long moment, taking in the changes of nearly a decade apart. Jared's even taller, that much Jensen can tell, and he's no longer a skinny thing of a boy, if the stretch of Jared's jacket across his chest and shoulders is any indication. He's dressed very nicely; even Jensen, who knows little about fashion, can tell that his suit is very well-made and undoubtedly incredibly expensive. Jared looks good. And Jensen knows that he's getting the same look-over, that Jared is cataloguing differences the same way.

It feels almost surreal, to see this strange, new person and know that it is _Jared_ , the same boy who had been nearly attached to Jensen's hip through middle and high school. The boy who'd been Jensen's first, and thus far only, love. The one who'd gone off to California and achieved all his dreams, and the absolute last person Jensen wants to talk to tonight.

Jared is the first to break their silence, saying, "I would've thought you wouldn't be caught dead here."

"Yeah, well, Mike nagged me until I said I'd come," Jensen reluctantly replies.

"That explains it. He could always be one annoying fucker."

"That he is," Jensen agrees. "What about you? Don't you have a movie set to be on, or an award show or something?"

"I'm in between projects right now, so I came down to visit the family for a bit. My parents told me 'bout the reunion and I figured it might be kinda fun, so here I am. Didn't realize you'd come." Jared shrugs, and then takes a seat next to Jensen, leaving as much space between them as possible on the small bench, but still close enough that they could touch, warm and real and so unlike any memory. "Haven't talked to you since spring of freshman year. How've you been?"

"Okay, mostly, if you don't count being stuck at this thing."

"I know what you mean. The second someone saw me, I got swamped with people asking for autographs. Couldn't they just dig out their old yearbooks? I'm pretty sure I signed most of them." He laughs.

Jensen rolls his eyes, though Jared probably can't see it in the dark. "Yeah, the poor award-winning director has to sign stuff."

"You heard about the Spirit Awards? You keeping up with my career or something?" A corner of Jared's mouth turns upward in a little almost-smile.

"Not really, but it's kinda hard to avoid your news coverage."

"Oh," Jared says, and there's a tone to his voice that Jensen can't quite place, though he's sure he could've, once. "What about you; what're you doing now?"

"Not much. Nothing as exciting as you." Just things Jensen would like to avoid talking about.

"Where d'you end up? Still Texas, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah." He means to leave it there and tell Jared as little as possible about all the ways he's fucked up. But one thing he's never done to Jared is lie, even by omission, and Jensen finds himself reluctantly continuing, "I'm still in Goodson. Teaching history and government at the high school."

Jared looks surprised, and maybe a little puzzled, just for a moment before it's gone. "That's good, Jensen. That sounds… good," he says. He pauses, like he's not sure what to say for once in his life. "Uh, how's your family doing?"

"They're fine."

"Your parents still live here?"

"No. Mom and Dad moved to be closer to Josh now that he's got a kid. How's your family?"

"They're doing good." Another period of silence, neither one looking at the other, until Jared says, "So, I think they've probably already started with the dinner and stuff, we should probably get back inside if we want to eat."

If Jensen wanted to leave before, that's nothing to how he feels now at the prospect of following Jared inside and submitting himself to more of this strained conversation. "No, I think I'm gonna head home; if I have to spend another five minutes in boy band hell, I think I'll shoot myself. Mike can just be pissed at me."

"You sure? He's not gonna let you get away that easy."

"Yeah, I can deal with him tomorrow," Jensen says as he stands. "But I should get outta here before he comes looking for me."

Jared gets up too. "Okay. Maybe I'll see you around town sometime before I leave?"

"Yeah...maybe."

Jensen turns to leave, fishing his car keys out of his pocket as he goes. He's halfway to the parking lot when Jared calls out, "It was good to see you." Jensen looks back to where Jared stands in front of the hotel doors, watching him go. "Good night, Jensen."

"Good night," Jensen answers and continues to his truck, unlocking the door and climbing in. He takes a deep breath, and then reaches over to the glove compartment, opening it and rifling through until his hand closes around plastic. He pulls out the bottle of Advil, twists it open, and shakes out two pills, which he swallows dry, hoping that they'll kick in quickly. Jensen rests his forehead against the wheel. It's silent and dark in the truck's cab, and his brain is still trying to pound its way out of his skull. But despite the headache, he picks himself up after a few minutes, sticks the keys in the ignition, and starts the car, ready to leave the reunion behind him.

* * * * *

The next evening, Jensen's more than glad to walk into the only bar he ever really frequents. It's fairly empty, even for this early a Sunday, which suits him just fine since he's had about enough of crowds to last him for quite a while. Only a couple of tables are occupied, there's a smattering of people sitting at the bar, and it's the sound of whatever music's playing, more than the talking patrons, that fills the room. With a hello nod to the bartender, Jensen heads towards a table near the back.

Mike slides a drink over to the other side of the table as Jensen pulls out a chair. "I can't believe you just left last night without telling me," he says with a frown.

Jensen sits, grabs the beer Mike got him, and takes a long swallow. "What, you expected me to go back in there… with Jared?"

"Well, no, but you could've called after you ran away like a little girl, you know, instead of not answering your phone 'til this afternoon. And notice how I didn't bring up that you left early."

"It was _Jared_. No way was I sticking around after that."

"I know. I'm not blaming you for going; hell, I probably would've left too if my ex had been there. That's a little too awkward even for me."

"That's assuming you had ever gotten any in high school to actually have an ex."

"Yeah, yeah." Mike waves off the teasing and leans in closer to say, "Look, I didn't realize he was going to show up and I'm sorry. I couldn't even find a way to get an invite to him, so I figured he wouldn't know about it. I wouldn't have pushed so hard for you to go if I ever thought he was going to come."

Jensen shakes his head. "Jared was supposed to fuck off to Hollywood and stay there, not like you could've known. Not your fault he didn't get the memo. But thanks anyway."

"We're good then?" Mike asks, and Jensen nods. Mike leans back and sips his drink, then says, "Okay, then now that's done, tell me everything."

Jensen sets his beer down and struggles not to sound whiny when he says, "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you have to. I claim best friend privilege."

"Of course you do," Jensen sighs. "What do you wanna know?"

"Everything. Full twenty questions: what he's doing here, how he is. How does he look?"

"Good, I guess. Couldn't really see him well with how dark it was. He's like giant now. Tall and built."

"So still pretty, then?" Jensen says nothing and Mike raises an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a yes. What'd he say?"

"Not much. I only talked to him for a couple of minutes. He asked how I was, what I was doing, how my parents are. Just regular stuff." Mike makes some kind of flailing gesture, urging him to continue. "I don't know, that's it. It was uncomfortable and I made an excuse to leave before it could get worse."

"Did he mention the breakup at all?"

"No, not specifically, thank god. Don't know what I would've said if he did."

"Is he gonna be in town much longer?"

"I don't know. He said something about hoping to see me later, so..." He shrugs.

"Do you _want_ to see him?"

Jensen finishes his drink and, looking at the empty bottle, says, "No."

"No?"

"No. I broke up with him like nine years ago. I got over it."

"If you say so. I'd be more inclined to believe you if you'd actually dated anyone, oh, ever."

"Don't start on that, Mike. And _I'm_ the one who ended it. Jared and I were on opposite ends of the country, the distance wasn't working, and yeah, it sucks, but that was a long time ago. I just want him to go back to California and let me get back to my regular life."

"Okay, yeah, you're over him. I'll drop it if you get the next round."

"Sure, anything to get you to shut up 'bout this."

After that, Mike keeps to his word and doesn't bring Jared up again, though he does ramble on for at least an hour about everything Jensen missed at the reunion. Business in the bar picks up a little as it gets later in the evening, and Jensen pays more attention to watching patrons come and go than he does to Mike's stories, though he makes all the right noises to act like he's listening intently. Jensen's idly gazing at the door when it opens and in comes, of all people, Jared.

The lighting's better at the bar than it was outside the hotel the previous night. This time, Jensen can actually get a decent look at Jared, and decides that his earlier assessment was right. Jared is easily taller than anybody else in the room, to the point where Jensen wonders if he'll hit his head on the low-hanging lamps. And Jared has indeed filled out, t-shirt showing off how muscular his arms have gotten, his face no longer rounded with youth. Time has been good to him.

Jensen knows he has about thirty seconds to duck out the back door if he wants to avoid repeating last night's uneasy conversation, but he can't seem to move fast enough. He sees the moment when Jared catches sight of them; Jared startles, just a bit, his eyes widening as flicker of uncertainty flashes across his face. But Jared seems to make a decision a moment later, and he crosses the bar and comes right for Jensen's table.

"Hey," Jared says when reaches them.

Jensen just nods in greeting, but Mike smiles enthusiastically and says, "Jared! Didn't get to see you last night. How are you doing? Jensen said you're visiting the family?"

"Aw man, I've been home less than a week and my parents are already driving me crazy. Had to get out awhile before I started thinkin' about slitting my own throat."

"I hear ya, I hear ya. A week's about all I can stand with my family without considering homicide."

"Sounds about right. So, um, you mind if I join you guys?" Jared's happy expression wavers slightly, unsure as he looks straight to Jensen for an answer.

Jensen means to make another excuse for a quick escape, he really does, but against his better judgment, he finds himself saying, "Go ahead." Mike rolls his eyes at that, but Jared breaks out into a full on smile, dimples and all, and Jensen has to remind himself not to give in to the old urge to smile back just as brightly.

Jared gets himself set up with a drink and then takes a seat next to Jensen, and his easy sprawl nearly has their legs touching, like so many times Jensen remembers. He turns to Mike and says, "By the way, nice job with the reunion. I had fun."

"Thanks; it's good to hear that. See, Jensen? Jared appreciates my hard work."

"Yeah," is all Jensen says, even though both of them have their eyes on him. He's already made the mistake of inviting Jared to stick around; he's not going to succumb to Mike's attempts to draw him further into the conversation only to be faced with Jared's charm and success and all the issues they never resolved.

When Jensen says nothing else, Jared turns back to Mike and continues, "Sorry I didn't get over to say hi last night."

"Eh, it's no problem. You were pretty damn swamped. Looked like they couldn't get enough of seeing the Hollywood hotshot grace us with his presence."

"Yeah, it's a consequence of being so awesome." Jared laughs. "They saw all the dumb-ass things I did in high school, so you'd figure they wouldn't be quite so excited to see me."

"You underestimate the power of celebrity."

"Wouldn't really call myself a celebrity, but if that's what one little blockbuster gets me, then I guess so. So, c'mon, you know what I've been doing. Tell me what you've been up to."

"Forcing Goodson's teenagers to learn chemistry, mostly. A few odd things over the summers. Dating my way through every single woman this half of Texas. And keeping an eye on this asshat, of course." He points to Jensen.

"You work at the high school too? So you two work together, kinda." Again, Jared looks expectantly at Jensen, a blatant shot at coaxing him into talking.

"Sort of," Jensen says.

"We're in different departments," Mike explains. "Not much crossover with science and social studies, so not really working together as just working in the same building."

"Yeah, that makes sense. You guys working over the vacation this year?"

"Summer school, for less pay and more annoyance. Otherwise known as legalized torture."

Jensen only says, "Not this year."

"He's a lazy bum who thinks he actually deserves a break," Mike says.

"Hey, I can't blame you," Jared directs this to Jensen. "I'd tear my hair out before I set foot back in that school again on a regular basis."

Jensen says nothing, though he had thought that way too, before.

Mike and Jared talk for what seems to Jensen like long minutes, about high school, the years after, Texas, sports, all of it with minimum input from Jensen. The conversation lulls eventually. Jensen is unwilling to speak more than he has to, while Mike and Jared both seem to have run out of neutral topics. The silence goes on long enough to get weird; Jared starts to toy with the expensive watch on his wrist and Mike keeps looking back and forth between them. Jensen's aware that there are two sets of eyes on him, and he's sincerely regretting not leaving the minute Jared came in.

Abruptly, Mike stands up and announces, "Well boys, there's a urinal calling my name. Be back in a few." Jared waves him off, but Jensen shoots his worst glare in Mike's direction, knowing full well that the coward is really just turning tail in the face of the awkwardness. He doesn't even have the decency to look sorry as he walks away, leaving Jensen alone with Jared.

"Mike doesn't seem to have changed much. 'Sides from the shaved head, anyway. That's new," Jared says, finally breaking the quiet.

"He started doing that last year, and yeah, he's still a pain in the ass."

"Just like always." Jared laughs. "You gotta remember that time with that terrible fake ID he got from that guy Josh knew. And he thought he'd get away with it at the liquor store, but he ran into his uncle..."

"...his uncle the state trooper," Jensen finishes.

"Man, he got in so much trouble. He was grounded, like, 'til graduation."

After a moment, Jared's laughter peters out weakly, his expression goes more serious and he gazes down at his drink. He wants to say something, Jensen can tell, something neither of them is going to like, and Jensen braces himself as Jared begins, "So, I lied to you last night. Well, not lied. More like stretched the truth a bit...I'm not just here to visit my family. You probably haven't seen, but I...I just got a divorce. From Katie, my wife. Well, ex-wife. We tried to keep it quiet, but it hit the gossip sites a few days ago and everything just kind of exploded. I needed to get away from it, so I decided to come down here for a while and hope it all of that blows over."

When Jared finishes his explanation, he seems almost wrecked, shoulders hunched, hair hanging in his face as he stares at a spot on the table, a little self-depreciating smile on his face. Jensen wonders if this is what Jared looked like after their breakup, if he wore this sad expression whenever he talked about the _them_ they used to be. "I'm sorry," Jensen says, and he means it.

"Don't be. Don't get me wrong, the whole thing sucks out loud, but it'd been coming for a while; until it made headlines the divorce was pretty drama-free." Jared raises his head, his eyes meeting Jensen's before he continues, "But yeah, the point was that it's not the short visit I let you think it is. I'm probably going to be around for a month, maybe two. And, well, Goodson isn't the biggest town ever. If you live nearby, we'll probably run into each other pretty often."

"Oh." Jensen's not sure what to say to that. The thought of this, seeing Jared, face to face, of talking to him on a regular basis… Jensen's not sure what to say.

Suddenly, Jared softly says, "Do you hate me or something?"

"What? No." Jensen sputters. He's never hated Jared. He's been annoyed with him, been jealous, been certain it was going to end badly. He's been angry and devastated and so it love it fucking _ached_ , but Jensen's never hated Jared. He asks, "What the hell gave you that idea?"

"You're clearly not comfortable with me being here. Heck, you can barely talk to me. And we didn't exactly part on great terms. Thinking you hate me isn't completely out there."

Jensen scrubs a hand over his face. "Fuck, Jared, I don't hate you. Never did. This is just...weird. I didn't actually expect to ever see you again and all of a sudden you're in town and trying to be all nice. You're kind of throwing me for a loop, here."

"I don't mean to."

"You never do."

Jared plays with the label on his beer bottle, still looking anywhere but at Jensen. "If you really don't hate me, then, well, I know it's strange, but..." Jared shakes his head. "Never mind."

"What is it?"

"It's stupid. You can tell me to fuck off."

"No, go ahead."

Jared takes a long breath and tries to several times to start explaining, before he finally starts, "We were friends first, Jensen. Before, well, everything, we were best friends. And then we got together and… we broke up, and it sucked, having to just cut you completely out of my life like that. I'd always regretted that I didn't look you up after some time. I wished we'd at least tried to get back to that, before. And then I saw you last night, and I'm going to be sticking around town, and I thought maybe...maybe." Jared shrugs.

"You want to be friends again."

"I understand if it makes you too uncomfortable. Just say the word and I'll turn and walk away any time I see you. We can pretend this conversation never happened. But if you think, if it's okay, maybe we could hang out some time."

Jensen can't answer, not right away. This is something he had never considered, even in those first long days when he felt Jared's absence as acutely as he would a missing limb, or when he still had to remind himself not to dial Jared's number for every failure and every triumph. Even when he missed Jared the most, Jensen had never thought that there could be hope for their friendship because – Jensen could admit it to himself now – he'd loved Jared too much then to settle for anything less than _together_. It was all or nothing with them at that point, and nothing was where they'd always been headed.

But now, with years between them instead of miles, at least for the time being, Jensen is curious, no matter how much he doesn't want to be. He wonders if they can get back to that comfortable place, when they truly knew the whole of each other, before the interference of that white-hot want that drove them towards more. From the time Jared had moved to Goodson during the seventh grade, they'd been inseparable, to the point where Jensen couldn't say anything without Jared finishing the thought first. Jensen hasn't had a friend like that since, not even Mike, and it's tempting.

"You have to go back to California eventually," Jensen points out, despite the appeal.

"I'm not saying we have to be bestest friends forever. I want to be able to say hi when I see you in town, to get together a couple of times when I'm here. Maybe shoot you an email every once in awhile when I get home. If it's still too awkward, then no harm, no foul, we don't see each other 'til the twenty year reunion. That's all." Jared's looking at Jensen intently now, expression not the soulful pleading Jensen once would have expected; instead he looks only hopeful, if still a bit nervous.

It's definitely something, the idea of rekindling their friendship. Of maybe trying to get back some of the closeness they once shared, with no expectations this time to make Jensen feel like a failure if it doesn't work out. And Jared would like it, appeasing Jensen's still-present impulse to make Jared happy. It feels like something Jensen can do. Though he's not quite sure what pushes him over the edge, Jensen says, "Okay."

"Okay?" Jared repeats, eyes wide like he can't quite believe that Jensen agreed.

"Yeah, okay. We can try the friends thing."

Jared practically beams at Jensen, like those few words have made all his problems in life disappear, like their conversation hadn't just skirted over some pretty painful territory for them both. He looks happy, uncomplicatedly, absolutely happy to be able to count Jensen among his friends once more. "Thanks, Jensen," he says. "You don't know what...just thanks."

"It always did take so little to make you happy. You're like a cat. Give you a piece of string and you're entertained for hours," Jensen jokes, knowing it's weak and far too familiar, but he's desperate to break this building hopeful tension between them.

Jared lets out a barking laugh. "Yeah, I make the perfect pet. I'm even housetrained."

Before it gets more uncomfortable, Mike chooses to take that minute to finally reappear from his hiding place in the bathroom with a, "Missed me?" He smacks Jensen lightly on the shoulder. "Sorry to deprive you gentlemen of my company, but I gotta head out. Unlike you lazy asses, I actually have to be at work in the morning. The little darlings won't fail themselves."

"Yeah, yeah. You just want your beauty sleep," Jared says. "Go on, you definitely need it."

"I should go too. I've got a full plate tomorrow, no matter what this douchebag says." Jensen stands and stretches a bit, limbs stiff from too long spent sitting. "You going to stick around?" he asks Jared.

"Probably." Jared checks his watch. "It's good to have some time alone. I'm not quite ready to go back home."

"Heh, well good luck with the rest of your family time," Mike says.

"Yeah, thanks. And Jensen, thanks again. I'll call you some time, maybe?"

"Um, sure. That'd be okay. So, good night, I guess."

"Good night, guys." Jared waves them both off.

Jensen turns to head for the exit, Mike following. They leave the low din of the bar behind them, stepping into the parking lot and the oppressively hot night. The moment the door's closed, Mike's on him. "He can _call you_?"

"It's not...I don't know..." Jensen shakes his head. "Don't ask. And nice job, leaving me alone there with him, asshole."

Mike holds up his hands. "Yeah, I know, I'm a wuss. I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I hope so too."


	2. Part Two

Jensen spends the next few days holed up in his condo, doing all sorts of boring weekend warrior type projects that hadn't seemed appealing until he desperately needed a reason to stay at home. Touching up paint, fixing the shower curtain rod in the guest bath, throwing out all the junk he's accumulated. None of it is Jensen's idea of fun, but it keeps him busy. When the state of his pantry starts to get dire, he even goes to the grocery store two towns over and tells himself it's for the better sales.

It's not that he's trying to avoid Jared. Well, not really, and not out of any anger at him. Jensen wasn't lying when he said he didn't hate Jared. But everything about Jared is a mystery now, especially whatever it is that he expects from Jensen, and Jensen is conflicted, to say the least. He doesn't know if he's supposed to act like Jared's best friend or his ex, and he has no idea if they can get to anything more than stilted conversation and uncomfortable staring. He's not avoiding Jared, but he is putting off seeing Jared until he knows what to say to him. It's going to take some time.

Unfortunately for Jensen, he isn't quite lucky enough to get the time he wants.

The doorbell rings on Friday afternoon, and when Jensen finally digs himself out of the mess his kitchen improvements have become, he opens the door to see Jared, standing right there on his front step, looking comfortable in a t-shirt, fraying jeans, and a pair of sunglasses. "Hi," Jared says, pulling the sunglasses from his face and running a hand through his shaggy hair.

"Hey," Jensen replies. "What are you doing here?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighborhood?" Jared tries, and miserably fails, to look innocent.

"If I had given you my address, then I might."

"If you didn't want random people to show up at your place, you shouldn't have yourself listed in the phonebook."

"You looked up where I live? That sounds suspiciously like stalking."

"Just a little. More like 'escorted out by security' stalking than 'restraining order time,' I'd say." Jensen laughs at that, more out of nervousness than amusement, and Jared joins in, equally uneasy. When they calm, Jared says, "Well, other than trying to creep you out, I came over because I was hoping we could talk, if you're free."

"Uh, yeah, sure, c'mon in." Jensen opens the door the rest of the way to let Jared inside. Jared steps into the condo, sticking his hands in his pockets and gazing around the living room. Jared, who has _everything_ , is in Jensen's home, looking at the shabbiness and disorder, and Jensen mumbles, "Um, don't mind the mess; I've been trying to fix up a few things and it's kind of gotten outta hand."

"It's no problem. I just came over because I wanted to tell you that I was serious the other night. I really do want to keep in touch now, get to know you again, as friends. And I do want to hang out with you. I was hoping, I guess, well, do you have some time now? We could go somewhere, grab something for lunch, maybe?"

Jensen could come up with a reason why he can't; he's not a terrible liar, and Jared has to have forgotten his tells by now. But he's spent most of four and a half days cooped up inside, with not much more than a few texts from Mike to remind him that there's an outside world. A chance to go out should be a no-brainer. And, Jensen reminds himself, he promised Jared that they could try. They have to start some time. Jensen can't put it off forever. "All right," Jensen answers. "Where did you want to go?"

Jared shrugs. "You can choose. Man, I don't even know what's around here anymore. Barely recognized anything when I was driving over."

"There's this place down by the library. It's just a sandwich shop, but it's good and the lunch rush should be over by now."

"That sounds great."

"Cool. We can take my car, if you want."

"It'd probably be better that way. I'd just get us lost."

"They make GPS's for that now, you know," Jensen points out.

"That may stop me from getting lost, but it doesn't stop me from being too lazy to drive."

Jensen shakes his head in disbelief and says, "Whatever, you ass. Just let me grab my keys and we'll go."

Jensen gets his wallet and keys from the small table near the entrance and they head off, Jensen locking his door behind them before they walk over to the condo complex's shared garage. When the door opens to reveal Jensen's truck, Jared says, "So you finally got a real ride?"

"Hey, I loved that car. She lasted me all through high school and college."

"That car was already twelve years old, Jensen. It on its way to being a piece of junk when your brother bought it, let alone when he let you have it. You probably drove it 'til all that was left was the driver's seat and steering wheel."

"Pretty much. Got rid of it right after college graduation." He unlocks the truck and climbs in, Jared doing the same on the passenger side. "Had this thing ever since."

"Well, this is definitely an improvement."

"Glad to know I've got your seal of approval." Jensen starts the truck and pulls out of the garage.

Past a row of residential streets and onto the more developed roads a few minutes later, Jared's staring out his window, fascinated by what he sees as they go by. "There's a Walmart now?" Jared asks as they pass by it. "Civilization really has come to Goodson."

"Dunno if I'd call Walmart civilization, but yeah, there's been a lot more building up since you've been gone." Changed though Goodson may be, Jensen still feels the need to say, "We're not quite so small town anymore, but it's not L.A., of course." He makes a turn onto another street, one no less developed than the road they just left. "We're almost there," Jensen says.

When they get to the sandwich shop, it's not at all fancy inside, just some small, scattered tables and a counter displaying all sorts of chips and drinks and desserts. The kind of plain little place Jensen's sure Jared hasn't set foot in since before his big break. It's still about half-full with people taking their lunch break late, but there's no one waiting for service when they come up to the counter, so their orders go in quick.

When the kid at the register starts ringing things up, Jared pulls his wallet out of his back jeans pocket and says, "I'll get this."

"Not a date, Padalecki. I can pay for my own lunch."

"Trust me; you wouldn't be saying that if you'd seen my last paycheck. You'd have me paying for your grandkids' college then."

Jensen doesn't want to think about what kind of money Jared makes back in Hollywood, and he definitely doesn't want to consider what Jared must think about his measly teaching salary if he's so persistent about footing the bill for one small lunch. "One sandwich isn't going to break the bank. I'll pay it myself," Jensen insists.

"If that's what you want." Jared backs down, getting out only enough cash to cover his own meal and handing it to the cashier. Jensen does the same, and when their orders are ready a few moments later, they grab their food and head for a table in the front corner.

Jared wastes no time digging into his food, taking a giant, sloppy bite without regard to how deplorable his eating habits look to anyone not used to it. While they eat, Jensen watches with amusement, recalling all the number of times Jared's mother had tried in vain to get him to learn some table manners. He can't help snorting as Jared ends up dropping half the lettuce from his sandwich onto his plate.

"What?" Jared asks, not bothering to finish chewing first.

"You still can't eat like a human being, I see. You never change, do you?"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Jared smiles mischievously. "Nine years since we last talked, that's a lot of time. I could be a totally different person."

"Jared, unless you're staring in a drag show on the side and not telling me, I don't think you're all that different." Despite Jensen's still constant apprehension, it's easy to fall into old patterns. It feels normal to joke with Jared, and at his expense, trading good-natured insults back and forth like they always had.

"Hey, I'd look good in a skirt; I've got the legs for it, don't I?"

Jensen makes a face. "That is a mental image I never wanted, thank you very much."

"You're welcome," Jared says brightly. "So, tell me stuff. How long have you been at the school?"

Just the topic he'd hoped they'd steer clear of. "Right out of college, pretty much," Jensen reluctantly answers.

"Mike too?"

"Yeah, we both happened to get hired 'round the same time."

"I gotta ask...how'd you end up teaching? During high school you always said you'd go into some kind of politics thing."

Jensen picks at his food as he tries to figure out how to answer, how to tell Jared that he never chased after what they'd dreamed of when they were teenagers. He finally says, "I double majored, political science and education. Figured I'd need a backup since putting all my hopes on working in government was kind of a big risk. Thought I'd teach for a little while until I had enough money for more school or something, but I kind of just...stayed. And it's a good job, mostly. I mean, you put up with your fair share of stupidity from the kids, but it's worth it to get them learning."

"So you like it, then?"

Another question, too deep, too revealing, another that if answered truthfully would show how easily Jensen gave up. "Yeah, I do," he says with a strained smile.

"Never thought you'd be the teacher type. You really are happy with it?" Before Jensen can process the weird emphasis on the question, Jared hangs his head as if just realizing what he said. "Sorry, I shouldn't push like that; it's not my place. You don't have to answer." He looks back at Jensen. "So, at the reunion, you said that your brother's a dad now?"

The subject changed, they spend the rest of the lunch talking about anything but Jensen's job, or Jared's growing fame, or the year and a half they were together. The conversation's not without self-conscious pauses or reminders of the tension in their current relationship, but it's definitely more comfortable than Jensen had expected. For once, Jensen lets himself clearly remember how much their friendship _worked_ , and, if he lets himself think about it, he can understand why Jared is so eager for it to be that way again.

They finish their food somewhere between one joking barb and another, and head back to Jensen's place afterwards, where they stand next to Jared's rental car, figuring out how to say goodbye. Jensen considers inviting Jared back in, knows Jared would like that, that it would make him happy. Instead, he says, "Think you can manage not to get lost on your way home?"

"I think so." Jared grins and gets inside the car, leaving the door open. "If I hit Oklahoma, I've driven too far, right?"

Jensen snickers. "Don't call later and expect me to give you directions. You're on your own, man."

"I'll keep that in mind." Jared closes the door, starts his car, and puts the window down. "Thanks, Jensen, for giving me a chance today. It means...thanks."

"See you, Jared," Jensen says, and means it.

"See ya." Jared pulls the car out and turns onto the street, and Jensen watches him leave. Jensen doesn't go inside until Jared is out of sight.

 

* * * * *

By the time the weekend's over, Jensen's pretty sure that he suffered from some kind of temporary insanity during his lunch with Jared. The past is supposed to _stay there_ , all the 'doomed to repeat' clichés be damned, but Jensen seemed to have forgotten that somewhere along the line. But without Jared's wide smile and earnest eyes right there to confuse him, Jensen remembers that, despite how good it felt to get over some of their earlier awkwardness, he's supposed to be keeping a certain amount of distance. Because at the end of this all, Jared isn't staying, not for good, and when he goes back to Hollywood their friendship might as well be on life support. The last thing Jensen wants is for this to fail as spectacularly as their romantic relationship did. Though he feels a bit ridiculous, Jensen returns to Operation Hermit, shutting himself in his condo and trying to plan what he'll do if Jared shows up at his door again.

Jensen's idly surfing the web, resolutely staying away from Jared's IMDB page, when his cell phone jingles out his text message tone from its place on the desk. He grabs the phone and checks the display, which shows a number he doesn't have listed. He hits the button to open the full message and reads:

 _Since when did Goodson get a dog park?_

 _Jared?_ he guesses, and sends off the reply.

 _The one and only :-D_

 _How'd you get my cell number?_

 _I may have run into Mike yesterday and conned him into telling me._

Jensen rolls his eyes and texts Mike, _Traitor_ , and then sends to Jared: _You're getting dangerously close to 'restraining order' stalking._

 _:-P Come on, when'd we get a dog park?_

 _Few months ago. Why do you care?_

 _Because it's cool!_

 _Do you even have a dog?_

 _Well, no, but I like dogs. I could get some dogs._

 _You're going to get dogs just to use the dog park?_

 _I didn't mean I'd get dogs right now. Just that I'd like them sometime. My house is too big for just one person anyway._

 _Whatever, as long as you don't try to drag me to the animal shelter with you._

And thus begins Jared's reign of texting terror, when he can't seem to go an hour without messaging about every random little thing, and Jensen seriously begins to fear for his phone bill. Jared sends jokes and pictures, rants about everything from slow drivers to the housing market, never staying on one topic for long. It goes from dogs to movies about dogs to video games to the election to whatever weird thing Jared's just found on YouTube.

 _What's with all the texts?_ Jensen finally sends.

 _You're more interesting than watching paint dry. No, really, I'm helping my mom paint the dining room and it's boring me to death._

And as much as Jensen wants to call Friday's lunch a glitch, this feels like before, when they would spend summers sprawled out on Jared's living room floor, Jensen trying to pay attention to whatever movie was on the TV while Jared talked all the way through. Like all the times they narrowly avoided detention for when Jared convinced him to help with some school-wide prank. Even with their pile of issues, it's like stepping back in time to the beginnings of their friendship, when everything was new and possible. It's surprising, and thrilling, for them to go so easily back to something like what they used to be.

It's also maybe a little fucking terrifying.

 

* * * * *

After days of texting back and forth, Jensen isn't shocked when Jared calls late Thursday morning and says, "I'm bored out of my skull. Come do something with me?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Just drive around, I guess. See what we can find. I promise this time I won't be lazy enough to make you drive."

Fresh off his new optimism for their friendship that the last few days have instilled in him, Jensen doesn't hesitate to say, "Sure. Pick me up in like an hour?"

Jared's more or less on time to get him, and they spend a long stretch of time aimlessly following streets Jared seems to choose at random. Jensen's enthusiasm for hanging out manages to last through all of Jared's erratic driving and endless rambling, right up until the moment when he pulls the car into the school's nearly empty lot, taking a parking space as close to the sprawling brick building as possible.

Jensen groans. "Summer _vacation_ , Jared. That means I don't have to be here."

"Just let me have this one afternoon of stupid reminiscing about the days of our misspent youth. No more than an hour. Please?"

"All right. But only to keep you from that pathetic begging." Jensen shakes his head good-naturedly. "The things I do for you."

"Thank you, Jensen," he singsongs before he turns off the engine.

They hop out of the car and walk the short distance to the large glass doors of the main entrance, where Jared holds the door for Jensen, a challenging grin on his face like he expects Jensen to comment. But he doesn't, only says, "Just gotta let whatever staff they've got in know I'm here," and heads for the main office.

Once Jensen's alerted the secretary, he's back in the hall with Jared, who asks, "So, where's your room?"

"It's nonexistent right now, actually. They're sticking the social studies department in the new set of portables they're putting up in back."

"So you've got nothing good to show me. Directionless wandering it is, then." He takes a veering turn down the hallway that leads to the gym, walking backwards so he can make faces as Jensen follows. This could be ten years ago, the way they weave through the cinderblock corridors, past classrooms and bulletin boards while Jared lets out a steady stream of chatter about the various trouble they'd gotten into as teenagers.

When they're halfway across the school, Jared makes an abrupt change of topic, asking, "So...you're not seeing anybody, right?"

"No..." Jensen isn't sure he likes where this might be going.

"Must be hard. To find a boyfriend, I mean. Since you don't want to out yourself."

"Yeah. Anything gets out, I'll have half the parents in town on the phone with the Superintendent. I kind of avoid relationships."

Jared slows down a little, comes up next to Jensen and falls in step with him. "That must suck," he says.

"It's fine." Jared raises an eyebrow, looking like he doesn't believe that, and Jensen shrugs. This is the life he's fallen into, and it isn't exactly an accepting one. Hell, even his old aspirations wouldn't have allowed him much freedom. Having to staying closeted was something he'd mostly come to terms with a long time ago. Jensen adds, "Hey, it's not like you're advertising your sexuality either."

"Yeah, but I can, if I want to. I mean, it wouldn't be such a great idea hot off the divorce, but someday, yeah, I could."

Jensen's incredibly thankful when the hallway they're following opens up into the lobby in front of the gymnasium, cutting off the line their conversation was taking. The tall glass trophy case by the gym doors quickly catches Jared's attention, and he bounds across the room. Jared intently peers into the display case, eyes on the large papier-mâché tiger inside, its orange stripes faded to yellow thanks to time. A devilish smile spreads across his face.

"You gonna let me steal it this time?" he says.

"What the hell? No, I'm not letting you steal the mascot." Jensen rolls his eyes. "You're really still on about that?"

"Yes, I am. You've always been such a spoilsport."

"Jared, after the anatomically correct gingerbread man incident, you were one detention away from having your ass handed to you."

"But it was tradition! A tradition you never let me complete. And won't let me go through with now."

"Because unlike you, I'm sane. And there are _cameras_ now."

"I repeat: spoilsport. Someday you'll learn to live a little."

"If this is your definition of living, then probably not."

Jared laughs, clear and happy, and says, "One day, Jensen. I promise you," like they've got more than these few fleeting weeks to reforge their friendship. He lightly smacks Jensen on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's see the rest of the place."

 

* * * * *

They continue to trade calls and texts throughout the week, until Jared turns up at Jensen's door again on a Wednesday, a scowl on his face and a very large, unmarked cardboard box on the step at his feet. He says, "Can I hide here for a while?" He looks tired and unhappy, nothing like the overly energetic boy Jensen once loved, like Jared still can be. Instead this is the Jared who admitted to his divorce in a darkening bar.

"You all right?" Jensen asks.

"Not really," he says, raising a hand to lean on the doorframe. "I was out a couple of days ago and I ran into this entertainment reporter chick from the _Dallas Morning News_ , and she recognized me. I guess she thinks she'll be the hero of the media if she can get me to finally comment on the divorce and now she won't fucking leave me alone. She was at my _parents' house_ , Jensen. I had to call them and tell them to keep away for the rest of the day so she couldn't bother them. You and me were joking about stalking and restraining orders, but..."

"Oh shit, Jared. I'm sorry; 'course you can hang out here." Jensen doesn't think about it, just moves out of the way and lets Jared inside, not hesitating at all when he's here and hurting. Jared picks up the box and hauls it in with him, plunking it down none too gently when he reaches the couch.

"Thanks, Jensen." Jared's expression brightens a bit, not to a full smile, but better than his previous gloom. "I seem to be saying that a lot lately."

"Damn right you should be thankful for me," Jensen says, letting a quick little smile show that he's joking. "So what're you doing about the reporter?"

"Called my lawyer and asked her to get in touch with the paper to bitch them out. Lynn's one scary lady; if anyone can get this woman to back off, it's her."

"Good. I hope it's sorted out soon. You can hang out as long as you need to. Do you want a drink or something?"

"No, I'm good." Jared perches himself on the arm of the sofa, taking in the room around him, looking at the worn furniture, the guitar in the corner, the full bookcase. "You have a nice place."

Jensen's condo isn't much, not really, just a cramped, outdated thing, the best he could afford without crawling to his parents for monetary help when he realized he was staying in Goodson. He's done what he can with it, a good chunk of that while he was avoiding Jared earlier, but watching Jared look at his home, it feels inadequate. "A place that's about the size of one room of your house?" he asks.

"No, gotta have a few more blockbusters before I can afford something like that." Jared snorts. "But I mean it; it is a nice place. Very you."

"Uh, thanks," Jensen says. He points to the box Jared dropped on the couch. "So what's in there?"

"My Xbox and Rock Band."

"You brought your Xbox all the way from California?" he asks, incredulous.

"Yep. And Rock Band. Well, just the guitars, but yeah." Jared grins as he opens the box and starts handing over various wires and plugs.

"You brought your Xbox all the way from California, and then to my place?"

"I was bored! And you know me and video games. Now help me set this thing up so I can kick your ass at _Green Grass and High Tides_." Jensen grumbles, but does as he asks, crossing the room to the television and beginning to match colored wires to hook up the cables so they can play.

Two hours later, Jensen's fingers feel like they could fall off thanks to the torture he just put them through. And on top of that, Jared did, in fact, deliver on his promise to thoroughly trounce him, which is a blow to Jensen's pride, albeit a very small one. "Dude, you kinda suck at this," Jared says as he shuts off the console.

Jensen sets down his controller in the box. "Whatever, this game is lame anyway. Kids should actually learn how to play a real guitar, none of this hitting buttons shit."

"Said like a true sore loser." Jensen gives Jared the finger, but Jared just tips his head back and laughs like Jensen's the funniest thing he's ever seen. "Don't feel too bad; I've been practicing. Haven't had much better to do lately than spend time with my parents, play video games, and annoy you." He flops back on the couch, loose-limbed and happy now, with the stresses that drove him to Jensen seemingly forgotten.

"Yeah, that sounds _real_ exciting. Wouldn't you rather be off making movies?"

Jared shrugs. "Yes and no. "

"Well, that answer's not vague at all. Yes or no, which one is it?"

"It's like… my first _real_ movie was _Dreaming of Watertown_ , this little thing with no budget, and I wasn't expecting it to get noticed. But it did, and that got me _Acquiescence_ , which got the Spirit Award, and next thing I know, I'm being signed on for what they were saying was the next summer blockbuster. Matt Damon calls you up and says he knows the perfect thing for you, you can't turn it down, right? I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been working pretty much non-stop for the past few years, and it's good to take a break. Anyway, turns out I'll be flying back end of July, the twenty-seventh, to start my next project. Nearly two months isn't really that long a vacation."

"Do you ever..." Jensen trails off. "Never mind. I shouldn't ask."

"No, go ahead. What do you wanna know?"

Jensen takes a seat on the other end of the couch, looking down at his lap. He says, "It's just, don't you ever get sick of the fame thing?"

"It's not as bad for me as it is for some people, at least not yet. It does get old sometimes, though. I think I would mind it less if everything hadn't happened so fast, y'know what I mean? One day nobody knew who I was, and the next the paparazzi were following me around at the damned grocery store. There was like no room for adjustment, and that sucks. But even disregarding the money, I'm doing something I love, and people appreciate my work, so I've got it better than a hell of a lot of people."

"Even when you've got a reporter sitting outside your parents' house?"

After a pause, Jared answers, quieter, reflective, "When it comes down to it, that's my fault. I'm apparently the new big thing, or so people keep telling me, so of course the press was gonna come after me; of course they were gonna speculate. They've said things about me..." He sighs. "I wish now that Katie and I had said something, at least an official statement. Saying nothing just made everything even crazier than it would've been otherwise. If we'd just made some sort of comment, maybe they'd have backed off a little."

"You have a right to try to keep your privacy. It's not your fault. If you need to blame something, blame the people who think they've got a right to your personal business." Jared doesn't reply, and the silence between them, no longer strained, stretches for a few long moments, until Jensen blurts out, "What happened between you and your wife?" His eyes widen as realizes what he just asked, though he can't place where the question came from. "Oh, shit, Jared. I'm sorry; I keep asking things I shouldn't."

"No, it's fine." Jared shifts in his seat, tense now, resting his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward. "I met Katie during _Dreaming of Watertown_ ; she had a small part and we got talking and we kinda just instantly clicked. So we went out and I liked her, we kept dating, and that was it. And it was good, in the beginning. We'd been together awhile when I started getting noticed and her acting was picking up, and I proposed.

"We got married 'bout a year and a half ago, but after the wedding, it was like everything started changing. Not fighting, really. Things weren't terrible. Just...it turned out that we wanted completely opposite things. We decided to end it before it could get bad. Like some kind of...marital preemptive action. It wasn't...that's it. It's been over a while, and I'm doing okay, mostly."

"I'm glad. I mean, glad you're all right, not that you got divorced," Jensen says.

"I know what you meant," Jared says. "Katie and I, it was just a matter of moving too fast, I guess. We had never really talked about stuff like we should've. Lot of things we never talked about. If I'm being honest with myself, as much as I wanted it, I shouldn't have proposed then. Should've waited 'til we were sure. But we didn't, and the last few months of it was like we were only really married on paper. So that's it, the whole story."

"Thanks, for telling me. You didn't have to." Jensen reaches out a hand to rest on Jared's shoulder, leaving it there only for a moment before he remembers _distance_ and pulls away.

"I wanted to." Jared leans back against the couch again, looking at Jensen with a funny sort of smile. "But I just shared a whole bunch of really personal stuff, so it seems only fair that you tell me something now."

"You're a manipulative bastard, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment." He grins.

Jensen mentally sorts through what he could say that would be on par with what Jared just shared, his self-promise of detachment forgotten. He wants to tell Jared something _real_. He wants to tell Jared about how he's lonely, about how it is to still be closeted and scared, and how ten years ago was the happiest he thinks he's ever been. A thousand things Jensen could say about how his life never turned out like he expected it to. But in the end, he settles on trading one tale of failure for another.

"All right," he starts. "My mom was the one who said I should double major in education. She said it was good to have big ambitions, but that I needed something to go back to. I guess she was just worried about me. When I finished college, I was only going to teach here for a year or two to save up money for whatever big-name law school I could get into. But then I'd been here a coupla years and before I started looking at places, I just started thinking that maybe Mom was right, maybe I wasn't gonna be the next great thing in politics. Not everyone's you; they don't get to be exactly what they wanted when they grow up."

"So you didn't even try?"

"No, I didn't," Jensen admits. "It just seemed worthless to go after it only to end up burning out. I figured that with all the scrutiny, at some point somebody'd find out I like guys, and 'course that doesn't play too well in the political arena. I figured there wasn't any point, so I just kept doing what I had to to keep teaching."

"You don't sound happy when you talk about your job," Jared points out.

"I don't hate it. It's not what I wanted, at first, but I've got a roof and a paycheck. Like you said, I've got it better than a lot of people."

Jared sits up, leaning in closer. "It's not like it's too late. You could start getting into local government stuff. You'd be good, Jensen; you can still, you know, follow your dreams, reach for the stars and all that crap."

"You sound like a Disney movie."

"So which one of us is Beauty, and who's the Beast? Wait, don't answer that; I know what you're gonna say."

"That you've certainly got the hair and the height to be the Beast?"

"Or that you're so pretty you'd have to be Beauty." Jared's smile turns silly with an exaggerated leer, and Jensen has to laugh.

"Tone down the cheese, Padalecki, before you break something. And I'm not pretty; I'm manly and handsome."

"Of course you are."

Jared stays through dinner, which he tries to help Jensen put together in the tiny kitchen, though he ends up getting in the way more often than not. They end up with slightly burned chicken, undercooked pasta, and an inordinate amount of dishes to clean. After, he finally heads out with his video games and one last _thanks, Jensen_ , and Jensen has to remind himself not to tell him _anytime_.

When Jared is gone, first thing Jensen does is head for his computer and gives in to the temptation to search for Jared's name. There's the usual stuff, like lists of his work and accomplishments, interview clips. Articles touting him as the next hot thing to hit Hollywood. Jensen finds pictures of Jared with his arms around a pretty, slim, blonde-haired woman. They're on red carpets, and in paparazzi shots, flashing their brand new wedding rings at a camera. They look happy, Jensen thinks. And then there are the rumors, since the divorce, stuff about public arguments, and accusations of cheating, things Jensen knows could never be true, because despite the years and changes, Jensen is still sure in the knowledge of Jared's character.

His phone goes off again, another text from Jared. _The coast is clear at home. :D Call you sometime later?_

Jensen closes his browser and sends back, _Sure. I'll talk to you later._

 

* * * * *

Two nights later, the bar isn't the same nearly quiet refuge it was last time Jared and Jensen were there, and Jensen almost turns around and leaves when he sees just how many people are packed inside. Each stool is occupied, and all the tables are filled with the weekend crowd. Different conversations, different laughter, all combine into the overwhelming sound of _people_ , just the kind of noise that makes Jensen tense at Jared's side. Jared doesn't notice though, too busy slouching down just a little, trying to counteract the height that makes him stand out so much.

"We can head somewhere else if you want," Jensen offers, almost hoping that Jared takes it.

"Nah, it's okay. Just don't want to get noticed and cause a scene." Jared scans the bar. "I think I see Mike," he says, pointing towards a table on the other side of the room. He steps out of the doorway and into the throng of patrons, weaving in between groups of people, Jensen only a few steps behind him. They find Mike right where Jared said he'd be, sitting near the side wall with beers already on the table and what are probably the only two empty chairs in the place next to him.

"It's about time," Mike gripes as they sit. "I had to fight off a tattooed biker named Rock to save your seats. Seriously, he was like twice the size of Bigfoot here." He gestures toward Jared.

"If Goodson actually has a biker called Rock, I'll eat this bottle," Jared jokes, grabbing his drink.

"If Mike could win a fight against a biker named Rock, I'd eat every bottle in this place," Jensen says, and he and Jared share a laugh while Mike glares at them, though there's no real annoyance in it.

"Hey, I got you beer. You should be thanking me."

"Yeah, yeah. Oh how you suffer to be a good friend," Jensen mocks. "You're so unappreciated."

"Damn right I am. Where the hell have you been lately?"

"I've been busy." Which is true, since Jensen's definition of busy includes 'avoiding everyone else he knows so he doesn't have to talk about Jared.'

"So that means you can't answer my calls for over a week?"

"I'm a crap friend; what can I say?"

Before Mike can retort, Jared interrupts their back and forth, saying, "Oh, shit." Jensen and Mike both glance at Jared first, and then turn to follow his line of sight, where there is a red-haired woman striding purposefully towards their spot. Jensen looks back to Jared and doesn't even have to ask before he answers, displeasure clear in his expression, "It's that reporter."

"Oh shit," Jensen repeats. Mike looks puzzled, but there's no time to explain before the woman is standing at the table with a falsely friendly smile.

"Hi again, Jared. I saw you when I came in and I was hoping to catch you for a few more questions. Who are your friends? Oh, I'm being rude." She turns towards Mike and sticks her hand out. "Hello, I'm Julie McNiven, _Dallas Morning News_."

Mike looks at her in vague disbelief, and Jensen's getting ready to say just what he thinks of her when Jared tells them, "Wait here, I'll take care of this." He stands, circling around the table to stand next to the reporter. "I'd appreciate it if you'd not bother my friends, Ms. McNiven. And I do think we need to talk. If you'd follow me outside…?"

"That'd be great, Jared." She looks excited, clearly not understanding that Jared doesn't intend to answer a single question, and digs through her bag one-handedly as they walk off. "Now I know you don't want to talk about the divorce, but…" Her voice becomes indistinguishable among the others as she and Jared walk away.

"What the hell was that about?" Mike asks when they're gone.

"This creepy reporter chick won't leave Jared alone. Showed up at his house and everything. He set his lawyers on her boss, but it looks like it didn't take."

"God, that's gotta royally suck for him." Mike sets down his drink. "Speaking of Jared, what the fuck is up with you two? Coupla weeks ago you couldn't get away from the guy fast enough, now you're inviting him along to the bar?"

Jensen mentally curses Mike from getting straight to the point. "Are you mad I brought Jared with? 'Cause I didn't think you'd mind."

"No, I'm not mad, but I'd sure as hell like an explanation."

Jensen takes a moment, and then says, "We're just...reconnecting. It's not...we're not getting back together or anything. It's just, last time we were here, he was talking about how he wanted us to be friends again. So we're hanging out while he's in town. It's not a big deal."

"Jensen, you were still messed up over him years later, and you were the one who did the dumping."

"We're not going over this again, Mike."

"Well maybe we should."

"I'm gonna be fine. Anyway, he's going back to L.A. in July; it's not like anything can really happen."

"His leaving was the problem! He was here with you, you were all sappy and hopeful, and the second he was gone, you end up convinced your relationship was doomed to failure."

"That's not how it happened."

"Those are the basics." Mike sets his beer on the table and leans forward, resting his elbows on the wood. "Look, Jensen, I know you and Jared are whatever." He waves his hand around vaguely. "And yeah, you're an adult, can make your own decisions. I'm just saying you shouldn't let yourself get all fucked up over him again."

"I'm not going to. I'm telling you it's different now. I don't expect anything. So he goes away and I only get an email every six months; I'm okay with that because I'm not thinking we'll be best friends forever and ever or some crap like that. It's just hanging out while he's here."

"That's all?"

"Yes, that's it. There's nothing you need to worry about."

"All right, if you say so. I'll shut up about it."

"Finally. You're a worse nag than my mother."

"Hey, somebody's gotta babysit you."

"And god forbid he doesn't go down for his nap." Jared reappears, taking his seat once more, resting a hand on the back of Jensen's chair. Jensen is relieved to see that Jared doesn't seem to have heard anything significant from the prior conversation.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, she's gone. Had to threaten to call the police on her if she talked to me again. I almost feel bad… think I really scared her." He grimaces.

Mike shrugs it off. "Hey, if it keeps her off your back, then you gotta do what you gotta do."

"Yeah, I know. It just sucks ass. She's not the worst I've had to deal with, though. There was this guy once, back in L.A., man, I swear I woulda punched him right in the face if I didn't think I'd get arrested for it. It was outside this store–"

Jared continues his story, and Jensen listens attentively, knowing that Mike watches him the entire time.

 

* * * * *

Jensen's meager social life settles into a new routine after that, one where he finally isn't evading anyone. He bullies Mike into agreeing to a 'no talking about Jared' rule, which works for the most part and helps keep him sane. As for Jared, he maintains the same level of enthusiasm for re-earning Jensen's friendship, keeping Jensen's calendar more booked than it's ever been, dragging him to various places all across the state. Even when they don't have something planned, Jared's still prone to turning up at Jensen's door, or continuing with the onslaught of emoticon-filled text messages.

Jared even cons him into going to Six Flags for a day, pleading, _but rollercoasters are awesome_ , which is how Jensen ends up sitting on a shady bench in sweltering heat, surrounded by packs of families rushing towards rides, and watching Jared struggle to eat increasingly sticky cotton candy.

Jared looks at his gummy, pink-tinged fingers with distaste and says, "Oh, by the way, I was talking to my mom yesterday and she wants you to come over for dinner sometime soon. She kept saying she hasn't talked to you in forever; I think she likes you better than me."

"Sure," Jensen says with a chuckle as Jared tries to wipe his fingers on a napkin only to have it stick to his hand.

"Oh, that's right, mock my pain." Jared pouts as he fights with the napkin, and Jensen keeps on laughing.

It isn't until the next morning, when Jensen gets a text that reads, _dinner with the family on Sunday?_ that he remembers what he agreed to, and that he should, in fact, be freaking out right about now. Because if seeing Jared again the first few times was weird, talking to his parents always promises to be a world full of awkward, covered in uncomfortable, and with sprinkles of unpleasant on top. He's seen them several times over the years – hard not to, in a town the size of Goodson – and while they did speak to him and were outwardly polite, Jensen couldn't help but suspect that they spent each conversation silently accusing him of breaking their son's heart, a charge he couldn't really deny. And Jensen's not forgetting the fact that the whole situation is far too similar to a 'meet your boyfriend's parents' scenario for his liking, though it's one more complicated than most.

Jensen considers trying to get out of it, but he also knows that any attempt to do so will end up with Jared making all sorts of pathetic little faces, the kind that never fail to make him cave spectacularly to whatever Jared wants. Faced with that sure an outcome, Jensen resigns himself to his metaphorical doom and texts back, _That's fine_.

Sunday comes, hot and darkly cloudy, a thunderstorm threatening to roll in like the weather too agrees that nothing good can come from this. Jensen sits in his truck, parked in the Padaleckis' driveway, wondering how long he can put off going inside. The first fat raindrops hitting his windshield decide for him, though; a few more minutes in the car and it'll be coming down hard enough to thoroughly soak him on the way to the front door. Jensen grabs the cheesecake he bought at Walmart out of the passenger seat, opens the driver's door, and makes a dash for the house, only getting a little wet in the process.

Jared's at the door already when he reaches the front step, letting Jensen in from the quickly worsening storm. Jared shuts the door the moment he's inside and says, "You know, if you'd come in five minutes ago when you pulled in the driveway, you wouldn't have gotten stuck in the rain. You didn't have to hide in your car; my parents don't bite."

"Shut up," Jensen says, wiping his feet on the doormat and handing Jared his cake.

Jared takes the offered dessert and studies it for a moment. "You bought this at the grocery store, took it out of the container, and stuck it on a plate, didn't you?"

"What part of 'shut up' didn't you understand?"

"The part where you think it'll actually get me to stop talking. Anyway, I'm glad you brought something store-bought. I remember being stuck in middle school Home Ec. You baking is not an experience I wanna repeat."

"At least my food was more edible than yours," Jensen mutters. "Where're your parents?"

"Mom's roped dad into helping cook." Jared turns to call out, "Mom, Jensen's here!" He walks down the hall and through the doorway into the kitchen. "And he brought cheesecake!"

Jensen follows him into the kitchen. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Padalecki."

"Hello," Jared's father says from his place at the stove.

Jared's mother wipes her hands on a towel, and then turns to them. "Hello, Jensen. It's been so long since we've seen you." She comes closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a quick squeeze of a hug. It's not what Jensen was anticipating, to say the least, because there is no anger in her expression. No bitterness over how Jensen treated Jared, nothing but a seemingly genuine happiness to see him. He's not quite sure how to react. "How have you been?" she asks.

"Pretty good, Mrs. Padalecki. How about you?"

"We're doing well, thank you. We're glad to have Jared home, though I suspect he's ready to be rid of us by now."

"Your words, Mom, not mine," Jared says, setting down the dessert on the counter. "I'm getting free meals and laundry service out of this deal; I'm not complaining."

"You're not complaining _much_ ," she corrects. "Dinner won't be ready for a little while yet, I'm afraid. You still like lasagna, I hope?"

"Yeah, that sounds great. And thank you very much for inviting me."

"No need to thank us. You've always been welcome here." She goes back to what she was doing before Jensen came in, something involving a loaf of bread, and says over her shoulder, "Jared's been going through the boxes of his old things he left here. I think he's pulled out every school project you two ever did together."

"Not every one. I'm sure one or two got thrown away at some point," he says.

"My living room certainly looks like you've still got all of them. Why don't you go show Jensen some of the things you've dug out while your father and I finish up in here?"

"Sure," Jensen says, not exactly eager to see Jared's high school mementos, but definitely glad to have a reason to flee and figure out why Jared's parents haven't beheaded him yet.

They head into the living room, which is just as chaotic as Jared's mom said it would be. There are half-empty boxes and Rubbermaid tubs everywhere, their former contents strewn about the room like it all exploded from the containers. Otherwise, the room is pretty much the same as Jensen remembers it, with the same nearly full oak bookcase and the old rocking chair in the corner. If it weren't for the updated family photos on the mantelpiece, Jensen would barely believe any time had passed at all.

There's only one spot clear on the couch, so Jared grabs a box from the middle and sets it on the floor, saying, "Mom's making me go through all this and figure out what I can throw away and ship the rest home. I don't even remember what half of it actually is." He plops down on the cleared seat, and Jensen has no option but to sit next to him. "And see? I told you my parents wouldn't kill you."

"How did you–?"

"It was kinda obvious what you were thinking, man. You looked like a deer in headlights the entire time." He snickers. "But seriously, they're fine with it. They've always liked you."

"Good to know. So what've you got here?" Jensen gestures to the mess around them.

"I don't even know. I've forgotten what half this stuff even is." He pulls a box closer to his feet and roots around inside. "You should make yourself useful and find crap to trash."

Jensen looks at a box with distaste. "Can't you hire people to do this for you?"

"I am." Jared grins, a mischievous upturn at the corners of his mouth. "I pay you with the pleasure of my company."

"I don't think there's room enough in here for me and your ego. One of us is gonna have to go."

"You love it," he says. "You wouldn't have been hanging out with me these past few weeks if you didn't."

Jensen shakes his head in amused disbelief, but starts in on a box anyway, reaching to pull the nearest one closer. He opens the flaps to find a stack of old clothes, taking out the t-shirt at the top and holding it up for Jared to see. "This probably wouldn't even fit one of your arms anymore. I think this box is trash. What've you got?"

Jared laughs, and then digs further into his box, pulling out an old video camera. "Recognize this?" he asks, handing it to Jensen.

Jensen gently takes the camcorder, examining it with amazement. "You kept this?"

"It was my first camera, and you got it for me. 'Course I kept it. In my parents' attic, mind you, but yeah."

"Man, it took me forever to save up the cash for this. The look on your face when you opened it was worth it, though." Jensen turns the camera over in his hands, recalling that summer when he spent so many long, hot days working for his dad's landscaper friend. He obsessively checked ads for electronics stores, and each hour spent moving mulch and mowing lawns got him a few dollars closer to that perfect present.

"There are tapes in here, and I think there's a cord to plug it in. Wanna see if it still works?"

"Go for it," he says, and Jared smiles softly before he produces the cord out of the box. There's some shuffling around, moving an end table to get to an outlet, and then Jared is back on the sofa, camera in hand. He picks a tape out at random, pops it in, and hits the power button.

The attached screen is small, and Jensen leans closer to Jared to see more clearly as the tape begins to play. He's almost not surprised to see himself on the video, younger and grinning, leaning back comfortably in a lawn chair on a sunny day. _Say hi to the camera, Jensen_ , Jared's voice comes from off-screen. Jensen's teenage self roll his eyes and waves.

"This is your eighteenth birthday," Jensen says. He remembers that day, all of Jared's family there for the party, how Jared had dug out the camera, his previous year's present, and chased him around the yard the entire time. How they'd laughed and touched and whispered dirty things in each other's ears when no one else was around. Even then, with separation looming, they were happy.

 _C'mon_ , the Jared on the tape says, _you're being boring. Do something interesting._

 _Are you going to bug me until I do?_

 _Probably._ Jensen pulls a face at that, sticking his tongue out at the camera. _Not interesting enough. I'm gonna be relying on this video when I'm sad and lonely all the way in California. Keep me entertained._

 _Your definition of entertained isn't exactly appropriate for in front of your family._

Jensen watches himself laugh carelessly as Jared's hand comes into the frame, grabbing his shirt and pulling him out of the chair. There's a dizzying whirl of motion onscreen, and then the camera is steady again, Jared holding it at an arm's length so that they're both in the shot, Jared just as joyful as Jensen, his other hand still clutching Jensen's shirt. They kiss for the camera then, a soft meeting of mouths, affectionate but light enough for public consumption.

Jensen can feel it, the memory's so vivid, can remember exactly what it was like to kiss Jared warm and easy on a hot summer day, like nothing around mattered but them. And here, right now, Jared is still sitting next to him, pressed close so they can both see the camera's small screen. Jared is not the skinny boy in the video; he is large and warm and solid at Jensen's side. But with Jared's face inches away, it feels like those years apart could practically vanish, and Jensen remembers what it's like to just turn his head and _kiss_.

Jared turns the camera off abruptly, shutting the screen closed, and Jensen startles, pulling away so that they're no longer sitting so dangerously near. He looks anywhere but at Jared, desperate for something, anything to say to take his mind from the path it has wandered down. Jensen finally toes at the box of video tapes and jokes, "I should steal these and put them up on eBay. I could make a fortune selling them as your earliest work."

"I don't think anyone would want our old Spanish class project videos. Now if you'd ever agreed to a sex tape, that would've make big bucks." Jared laughs, a nervous edge to the sound, like he knows he's skirting all the lines they've set up between each other. It's something Jared used to tease him about a lot, having sex with the camcorder rolling, and Jensen can recollect precisely how close he was to agreeing to it, caution be damned. He's sitting in Jared's parents' living room, thinking about kissing Jared, about sex with Jared, with no thought to all those promises he made to himself when he first said Jared could call him.

The silence is long, Jensen needing something, anything to say to change the topic, and it finally comes to him when he remembers the date. He asks, "It's your birthday Saturday, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Shit, I almost forgot. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, really. And it's not like you have to get me anything. I was gonna ask if you wanted to hit the bar that night, though."

"Sure, that sounds good." The bar is public, neutral, somewhere that Jensen won't get this growing panic of _something_ trying to claw its way out of his heart.

"Cool," Jared says, setting the video camera back in its box. "Dinner's probably almost ready by now. You wanna check?" For the first time, Jensen notices the smell of cooking garlic filling the house, and his stomach rumbles. Jared chuckles. "C'mon, let's get you fed."

Despite Jensen's lingering nerves, and how confusing the whole evening has been, dinner passes comfortably. The food's great, and Jared's parents easily dodge any topic that could bring up the unpleasant portions of the past. Jensen knows that Jared watches him through most of the meal, but he forces himself not to shy away when their eyes meet across the table.

When Jensen thanks them and stands to leave, Jared's father shakes his hand in a firm grip, and his mother gives him another hug, whispering to him, "We're really glad that Jared's had you as a friend these past few weeks. Thank you." Just another thing Jensen doesn't know how to answer.

Jared follows him to the door, rambling the whole time. "Thanks for coming, Jensen; Mom and Dad really appreciate it. I hope you had a good time. I'll call you about Saturday sometime later, okay?"

"Thank you for inviting me, yes I did, and I'll talk to you later," Jensen says before heading out through the rain and to his truck. He gets inside and pulls out of the driveway as quickly as he can.

Two weeks. Less than, really, until Jared leaves for California again. Whatever just happened between them, Jensen only has to hold out for twelve days.


	3. Part Three

"Hey," Jared says when he opens the door to his parents' house. "I see you survived your hangover."

"No thanks to you. Do you have some kind of radar that tells you to call me right when I'm puking my guts out?" Jensen gripes as he steps inside.

"Yes, Jensen, I call it Puke-dar, and I love how it was my birthday but you ended up being the one who got to spend all yesterday hugging the toilet." Jared shuts the door and ushers Jensen into the living room, which is looking far more orderly than the last time he was in it.

"I blame you, you bastard. I'm not drinking anything you give me ever again," Jensen says.

"No beer for you tonight, then?"

"I can get it myself. You realize I do know where your refrigerator is?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just sit your ass down. I'll get you a drink, and I promise no hangovers tomorrow."

Jensen does as he's told while Jared disappears into the kitchen. This is the first time they've spent time alone together since things got...weird the night they had dinner with Jared's parents. Jensen had gone into evasion mode during the week that followed, at least until Jared's birthday, when they went out with Mike safely in tow to remind Jensen to keep his feelings in check. But now it's two nights later, they're hanging out again, and the only thing stopping him from running in terror is the idea that it would disappoint Jared, something Jensen still deeply wants to avoid. So Jensen is back in Jared's living room, a desperate beat of _distance, distance, distance_ in his head.

Jared comes back, two beers in hand, one of which he gives to Jensen before crossing the room to fiddle with the DVD player. When he's finished and seated, Jensen asks, "So where're your mom and dad?"

"Um...in San Antonio visiting some friends of theirs." He looks sheepish. "I know they're worried about me with the divorce and everything, but I kind of hit my limit for being babied..."

"So you suggested they go somewhere?"

"More like called up their friends, bought them all tickets to a show down there, and practically begged them to clear out for a day or so. Yes, I am pathetic."

Jensen lifts his hands and shakes his head. "Hey, I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Yeah, you were. Just shut up and let's watch the damned movie." Jared grabs the remote, turns the TV on, and settles in for the film.

Much later, after two movies, three rounds of Halo, and several beers, at an hour when most sane people have gone to bed, Jensen's relaxed somewhat. Jared stuck to his end of the couch, their conversation stayed securely in friendship territory the entire time, and Jensen firmly kept his mind off of any consideration of inappropriate contact. And if he was less than successful at any point during the evening, Jensen's pretty sure Jared hasn't noticed any looks of confused almost-want he may have let slip.

"Okay," Jared says, setting his Xbox controller down, "I can't do this anymore. To keep on beating you this badly is like kicking a disabled puppy. It's cruel, that's what it is. We need to find something else to do so I don't feel like I'm damaging your fragile self esteem."

"I am not fragile, you ass. But yeah, you winning is getting old. You got any bright ideas?"

"Bar?"

"No way in hell," Jensen says. "I'm not letting you try to give me alcohol poisoning again. Think of something else."

Jared's quiet for a moment, staring at a spot on the floor as he considers. Finally, he looks back at Jensen with a roguish smile, the kind of expression that always meant he was ready to get them both in trouble. "I've got an idea." He stands, and offers his hand out to help Jensen off the couch. "C'mon."

Jensen looks doubtfully at Jared's outstretched hand. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Probably not, but you're coming anyway."

"Fine." Jensen swats Jared away – the last thing he needs right now is to _hold hands_ – and gets up, his already healthy level of apprehension continuing to rise as Jared heads into the kitchen and opens the back door. Jensen reluctantly goes after him, following out into the yard.

It's a clear night, and although the hellish heat of the day has faded somewhat, it's still shockingly warm when coming from the cool house. The sky is deeply dark at this hour, only the light filtering out through the kitchen windows allowing Jensen to see Jared as he grabs an end of the picnic table sitting in the middle of the lawn and begins to drag it to one side. "Help me with this thing, will ya?" Jared says.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"You'll see. Just get your ass over here and help." Jensen crosses the yard and lifts the other end of the table, and together they carry it over to the tall wooden fence that separates Jared's parents' property from their neighbors'. Jared signals for him to set the table down right next to the fence. "There," Jared says like they've accomplished something. "Let's go."

Jensen's almost not surprised when Jared climbs up on the tabletop and hops over the fence with a laugh. It's the kind of mischief Jared's always been prone to with his wild sense of humor. Aside from dredging up all these old feelings, the last few weeks have been a very thorough reminder of precisely how much trouble Jared can be with his schemes and his gleeful randomness. Jensen steps on the bench seat, then up to the table, and leans over the fence to look at Jared.

"Seriously, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Going for a swim." He gestures to the large in-ground pool behind him.

"You're going to get caught," Jensen hisses.

"No one's home. They're in Europe for like, the entire summer. It's fine, man. Get over here before I pull you down."

It's an old habit to follow Jared without a thought, one as familiar as breathing, and before he knows it, Jensen finds himself looking around, irrationally worried that a neighbor or a police car – or worst, one of his students – could suddenly appear and have him arrested for trespassing. But when he jumps the fence, none of his paranoid fears come to pass, and he even manages to land steadily on his feet and avoid the embarrassment of a fall. Jared practically beams at him with a wide, joyful smile and excited eyes, claps him on the shoulder, and walks closer to the pool.

"You even suggest skinny dipping and I will end you," Jensen says.

"Aw, c'mon, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Strangled to death by my sense of self preservation a long time ago."

"Oh, all right. Underwear it is, then." Jared pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it onto the concrete, and for the first time, Jensen can see exactly how much muscle Jared's put on during their years apart. Jensen can't bring himself to look away. Jared is… he doesn't have words for what Jared is, at least not ones he'll allow himself to acknowledge, and he's still staring when Jared kicks off his shoes and drops his pants to reveal long legs and loose black boxers. "You going in fully clothed or what?" Jared asks when he looks back up.

Jensen shakes his head, trying to clear it, and answers, "Ha! No, I'd like to stay dry, thanks."

"C'mon, Jensen, live a little."

"No."

"Please?"

"No, and if you try to make me, I will kick your fucking ass."

"You were so not this uptight when we were kids, but suit yourself." Jared shrugs, and then, with a yell, launches himself into the water in some kind of flailing cannonball-type move. Water splashes everywhere, though Jensen's lucky to be far enough away that he doesn't get wet. Jared comes up laughing, like it's hilarious that he might have just woken up the entire neighborhood, and starts doing laps across the pool, body cutting through the water with a grace he seems unable to achieve on dry land. Jensen can't help but step closer, all the way to the edge of the pool, wanting a clearer view of Jared's broad back as he moves so easily in the water.

Something's happening in Jensen's head, like all his carefully drawn lines are blurring, something that started the other night, or maybe earlier; maybe everything since Jared came back into his life has been leading up to this feeling. Maybe it's as old as their first spark of friendship, something that never stopped, even after their split and those years of distance. All Jensen knows is that he can't look away. He doesn't even want to, really.

His perilous train of thought is somewhat interrupted when Jared swims up to the edge where Jensen stands, still with a grin, water droplets trailing down his face. He's got that look again, the one that means mischief, and before Jensen can move away, Jared sends a giant splash straight in Jensen's direction, enough to get him drenched pretty much from head to toe.

"Oh, you fucking asshole," Jensen sputters as water drips down his body and his clothes begin to cling.

Jared laughs, loud and pleased with himself, as Jensen grabs the bottom of his shirt and tries to wring it out. "You're already wet; now you don't have a reason not to swim."

"I hate you. How's that for a reason?"

"It's a bad reason because you're a giant liar. You think I'm awesome." Jared comes closer, leaning his arms on the rim of the pool. "C'mon, don't you ever get the urge to do something spontaneous?"

And the thing is, Jensen doesn't, normally. For years, he's had a comfortable life laid out in front of him, not necessarily the happiest life, but one that's easy to stick with. He knows a thousand points in the last decade where it could've gone another way, when he could've tried something instead of continuing as he was, only to choose the ordinary life every time.

But then there's Jared, Jared who's lively and random and here, reawakening this huge, indescribable thing in Jensen. It's the same thing responsible for big aspirations, responsible for his first falling in love with a gangly, goofy boy. Jared's always made him want to do something... _different_.

Jensen has an idea, a silly, childish idea, which is just the kind of thing Jared will love, and in an instant, he decides to go for it. "You want me to do something spontaneous?" Jensen asks, one corner of his mouth turning up in sly little smile. "How's this?" He grabs Jared's shirt and jeans from the ground and takes off running.

He heads for the side yard, where the fence meets the house, and he can hear the slosh of water, probably Jared hauling himself out of the pool to chase after. The fence has a gate, like Jensen was hoping it would, and he flips the simple lock, swings the gate open, and makes for Jared's house, still at a run. Jared is behind him, and the sounds of footfalls and quick breaths get closer each moment. Around the fence, and into the Padaleckis' backyard, and nearly in the house when a hand closes around his upper arm, stopping him just shy of the kitchen door.

Jensen turns, and there is Jared, grinning widely and dripping pool water onto the grass. "Gotcha," he says, chuckling softly. "That was more like it. There may be hope for you yet."

"Glad you approve." He tosses Jared's clothes back to him and rolls his eyes, but yeah, he is glad, because anything that gets Jared looking this happy is more than worth it. "Now what's a guy gotta do to get a towel 'round here?"

Jared snorts, and then opens the door, holding it for Jensen. "Get your ass inside. There should be some over the washing machine."

Jensen goes into the house, Jared following him, and they walk over to the small laundry area near the kitchen together, where he grabs two towels off a shelf and hands one to Jared. Not thinking about where he is or who he's with, Jensen tugs his shirt over his head and sets it on the washer before starting to dry off. He's running the towel over his chest when he looks back up at Jared.

Jared is not moving; he's simply standing there, loosely holding his towel in front of him, staring at Jensen. Jared is _staring_ at Jensen, want plainly there in his expression, and it's so much like another day, another time when they were alone in this house, when Jared first looked at him like this, less confident then, but with this same desire. It's so much like that moment over ten years ago that Jensen is sure, he _knows_ what is about to happen. It's exactly what he didn't know he'd been waiting for.

Jared takes a step forward, resting a hand on Jensen's bare shoulder before he leans in and fits their mouths together. It's not the tentative kiss of their early teenage fumblings, or the comfortable affection they had later; Jared kisses sure and _strong_ in a way he never used to, like he's using it to say something, like sending a message. And screw doubt and distance, Jensen goes with it, parting his lips in response to let Jared deepen the kiss with a swipe of tongue. He tightens his hand around Jensen's arm and sets his other hand spread wide on Jensen's lower back, drawing them closer together, while Jensen brings both hands up to tangle his fingers in Jared's wet hair. They are flush against each other, hips to chests to mouths, and Jensen is struck by Jared's size, by how effortlessly Jared could manhandle him now. This is Jared grown up, taking what he wants. This is Jensen, giving it.

The first kiss ends with Jared's teeth lightly catching Jensen's bottom lip as he pulls back, but Jensen doesn't let him go far. Jensen pulls him down for the second kiss, wetter and less coordinated, more desperate, with fingers grasping tighter this time. There is no noise but their mingled breathing, the sounds of their mouths meeting, Jensen's heart pounding in his chest. A second kiss, and a third, and Jensen loses count around the time he notices that Jared's cock is hard. He thrusts own erection against Jared, wanting desperately to get rid of the rest of their clothes, but reluctant to have his hands anywhere but right on skin.

At some point, Jared starts them moving out of the kitchen. He ushers Jensen through the hall and over to the stairs, all while still touching, still kissing, bodies connecting, never letting Jensen have even a minute of clarity for second thoughts. Even going up the staircase, he holds Jensen to him, sucks a mark on Jensen's shoulder like he still has an acknowledged claim, making Jensen arch and hiss with pleasure. They're still fiercely tangled together when they get to the second floor, and Jared drags Jensen along by his belt loops through the door of what used to be Jared's bedroom.

The room is dark and undoubtedly changed from what Jensen remembers, but Jared seems able to navigate just fine as he pulls Jensen over by the bed. Then Jared's touch is gone, and Jensen grabs for Jared's hands; he wants to feel, not to overanalyze, and he needs Jared touching him to do that, but Jared swats him out of the way with a chuckle.

"Need to get your pants off," he says, the first either of them have spoken since this started. Jensen moans a little and nods in agreement. "Excited, much?" Jared asks and laughs again, low and smooth against Jensen's neck, as his hands go for the zipper of Jensen's jeans.

He makes quick work of Jensen's fly, and then carefully peels the wet denim down Jensen's legs, boxers coming off with the pants so that Jensen is finally naked. Jared drops his own underwear quickly, and has Jensen down on the bed just as fast. Jensen lands on his back, Jared above him, and they meet in another crash of a kiss, hard and frantic. Their bodies slide together, skin still slick with pool water, their dicks rubbing side by side in a desperate friction that has Jensen gasping into Jared's mouth.

Jensen can't think, not about how he promised himself he wouldn't do this, not about how much of a bad idea it really is. But he can remember exactly how good sex with Jared can be, how Jared clutched at him when they fucked, the hot swirl of Jared's tongue along his dick, the low keening sounds Jared would make when he came. If they're giving in to this, then Jensen wants all of that again.

Jared must be thinking along similar lines, because he says, voice rough and breaking, "Do you remember the first time we did this, Jensen?" His hand moves down, trailing across Jensen's stomach before he wraps it firmly around Jensen's cock and starts stroking. "Remember right here, where I jerked you off the first time. God, first time you'd really been touched like that. Right here in this room. In my bed. Still so fucking hot."

"And you still don't shut up," Jensen snaps back, his voice just as rough as Jared's.

It feels so much the same, and so different. He jacks Jensen the way he long ago learned Jensen likes it, tight and slow, thumb moving across Jensen's slit, spreading precome over the head. But Jared's hand is larger, and more sure, a strength there that's new and intriguing. Jared's still speaking, a wild mix of lust and affection, as he thrusts against Jensen's hip, keeps on working Jensen's dick as Jensen fucks into his fist. Each move shows that Jared remembers how to touch and where to kiss to get him writhing and biting out, "Fuck, Jared," and, "God, yes."

The rush of Jensen's orgasm hits him suddenly, way sooner than he wanted, with that too-good shock of pleasure coursing through him. He grabs hold of Jared's arms, probably hard enough to bruise, and comes long spurts all over his stomach and Jared's hand, chanting Jared's name all through it. Jared thrusts again, and again, and follows moments after, letting out a deep groan as his come splashes over Jensen's hip.

They come down face to face, close enough to mingle heavy breaths between them, and there's a something that looks like awe in Jared's eyes as he traces patterns with his fingers through the mess on Jensen's skin. Jensen gazes back and wonders if he's wearing that same look of amazement.

With the rush of _need, want, now_ done, Jensen knows he should take a step back, and there are things they need to seriously think about, but Jared still looks _hungry_ , and with a glint in his wide eyes, his hand starts to move back lower. He pants into Jensen's mouth, "Again."

Another kiss, quick and dirty, and Jensen mumbles against Jared's lips, "Yeah, yeah. Again."

 

* * * * *

Wakefulness comes abruptly; in one moment, Jensen is sleeping, and in the next he is alert and painfully aware of exactly what happened the night before. There's no arm slung around his middle, no warm body next to him. He is blessedly alone. Jensen raises his head from where it's buried in the pillow and, squinting at the sunlight filtering through the window blinds, checks for a clock on the nightstand. There is one, red-lit numbers telling him that it's already past noon, and he flops back on the bed with a grunt. Jensen feels exhaustion in every shift of his muscles, and the low throb of a headache starts behind his eyes. The only thing looking up is that Jared isn't present for what promises to be a particularly spectacular freak out, because no amount of denial or insistence that they're just friends is going to change what's going on.

Jensen is in love with Jared again, or maybe he never stopped.

Either way, somewhere between Jared's offer of friendship and the pool last night, Jensen's feelings have turned around and twisted themselves up into something nearly unrecognizable. All Jared's freely offered smiles, his silly text messages, his impromptu trips to every tourist hotspot in the area have worn down Jensen's defenses to the point where he'd all but forgotten he was supposed to maintain a healthy detachment. He let Jared drag him out all the time – like they were fucking _dating_ – and let Jared be intelligent and funny and charming, like everything he first fell for and still longed to have. Jensen has learned to want this now, contrary to all his self-promises not to wish for what he can't have. It's ridiculous, and hopeless, and precisely why Jensen should never have spoken with Jared after the reunion.

Jared is leaving for L.A. on Sunday, only five days away. Like high school, they're doomed before they've begun, with a predetermined separation looming in the not-distant-enough future, one Jensen knows better than to think they'll survive. Then there are their respective jobs, and Jared's public image, and whatever hurt remains from their breakup. And that's not even getting into Jared's divorce, and how Jensen isn't even sure that the previous night wasn't more than a rebound hookup. All of this added together, and it seems as if Jensen's stupid heart is gunning to get itself broken.

But staying here isn't solving any of Jensen's issues, he definitely needs to get cleaned up, and Jared will come searching for him eventually, which will be even more awkward if he's still naked. He hauls himself out of bed to look for his jeans and finds them folded neatly on a dresser. His shirt and boxers are there too, and they smell like fresh fabric softener instead of chlorine; Jared must've washed them. Jensen takes his clothes and goes for the door, opening it a crack to check that the coast is clear before darting across the hall to the guest bathroom.

When he closes the door behind him and looks at himself in the mirror over the sink, he's surprised to see that he doesn't look like hell, just one minor hickey and the mess of dried come on his stomach. All evidence of what they did is either easy to clean or easy to cover. He finds a washcloth, wets it, and wipes himself down a little, just enough so that he doesn't feel completely disgusting when he throws last night's clothes back on. Cleaner and clothed, he should feel slightly better, but instead he's forced to realize that he can't put off the Jared issue any longer. Jensen steels himself, opens the bathroom door, and heads downstairs.

Jared is sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the cup of coffee in front of him with an unusual intensity, when Jensen walks in. Jared looks up, nerves clear in the tense set of his mouth – the mouth Jensen _kissed_ – as he says, "Hey. Good morning."

"Morning," Jensen replies.

"You want coffee?"

"Sure. I can get it myself," he offers before Jared can get up. "Mugs still over the microwave?"

"Yeah."

Jensen fixes his coffee, glad for something to do with his hands, and when he has a cup, he sits across the table from Jared. They watch each other silently for a minute, until he says, "So."

It's a start. Not a good one, but a start.

Jared seems to consider his options, his expression flickering wildly like he's reacting to possibilities listed off in his head. "Can we..." he finally starts. "I mean..." He drains the rest of his coffee, sets the mug down and says, "Fuck it. Let's do something this afternoon."

That's not the 'figuring things out' Jensen expected, and needs. "What?"

"Let's go mini-golfing, or see a movie. Have dinner. I dunno, drive around."

"Jared–"

"Can't we just let it be good for a little while? Please?" There's a fraught look in Jared's eyes, a hope that Jensen will agree. It's not the teasing sort of begging that makes up a good portion of their friendship; there's no joking note to it, nothing less than true sincerity. Jared, he realizes, is _pleading_.

There's not much about their situation that's clear. Jensen still isn't sure where Jared stands, and his own emotions are a swirl of confusion and conflict. They have too many things still to talk about, and the only sensible thing to do is say no. But damn it, the one thing he knows is that he wants to be happy, really content like he hasn't been in years. And with this flood of pleasant memories there in the forefront of his mind, and the prospect of this complicated, heart-rending, _wonderful_ new thing rising between them, Jensen wants to take that happiness, even for just an instant.

"Okay," he says. "I need to go home and get presentable first."

And there it is, delight washing over Jared's face, filling Jensen's chest with an indescribable pressure. Jared says, "I can pick you up later. Three sound good?"

"That's perfect."

 

* * * * *

Jared's only fifteen minutes late, which is a kind of miracle, considering how much of his life Jensen's spent waiting around for Jared. Jensen spends those entire few minutes alternating between worry that he won't come and thinking about phoning him to call it off. But Jared turns up, his soft grin and easy chatter putting Jensen's nerves somewhat at ease.

They end up stopping at a diner first. During the meal, neither of them mentions the turn their relationship is taking, but there's a palpable tension now in the way Jensen watches Jared's hands, recalling how they'd moved on his skin. He sees it in the way Jared looks anywhere but straight at his mouth. And even if Jensen were oblivious to this renewed sexual charge, he can't help but notice the little changes in Jared's behavior. Jared stretches out his legs even more than usual, keeps them a mere inch from Jensen through the whole meal. He doesn't let up on the teasing insults that normally make up a good portion of their conversation, but there's a new note to his laugh, something deep and intimate. It isn't until they've finished eating and Jared plunks down his credit card, one eyebrow raised as if to dare Jensen to comment, that he knows for sure what is different. While all their previous time spent together was supposedly nothing more than a bunch of friendly outings, tonight is undeniably a date.

Jensen's still trying to process this realization when they hit the movie theater, which is why he doesn't stop Jared from getting tickets for _Saw 27_ or _Chucky vs. Jason_ or some equally bad slasher flick. "Why the hell are you making me watch this crap?" he asks as they take seats.

"A buddy of mine did the lighting and I promised him I'd see it." Jared tears open one of the several packages of candy he bought at the concession stand, drops a few M&M's into his palm and offers the rest to Jensen. "Besides, if it's really bad, we're sitting in the back of a dark theater…"

The implication is blatant, and Jensen hadn't anticipated anything like it; despite the tone at the restaurant earlier, this is the first Jared's clearly hinted that he intends to pick up where they left off the night before. Jensen can't answer that, not now, so he instead takes the pack of candy and pops some in his mouth to avoid speaking.

The lights dim, the previews roll, and the movie starts, opening on the predictable scarcely clothed coed who is most likely the first to get killed quick and bloody. Jensen's body feels as taught as a pulled string, and it's not from any fear caused by the action onscreen. Eventually Jared will tire of the film – he always had a short attention span when Jensen was around – and go for his implied backup plan of making out, an idea that's got Jensen feeling pretty damned unsure. It's nice, being with Jared, knowing Jared wants him, but at the same time there's the ever-present understanding that they'll have to talk at some point.

Jared doesn't take his attention off the screen though, because by about twenty minutes in, he starts taking the movie's crappiness as some kind of personal offense. It starts with a few whispered comments about what camera angles could've worked better. Then it's something about settling for the actors doing poor work on green screen. Forty-five minutes into the film, Jared's complaining at a high enough volume that the couple of dozen other people in the theater are shooting him some very dirty looks.

Jensen grabs Jared's arm and says, "You knew it was gonna be bad. Now shut up and deal."

But keeping quiet has never been Jared's strength, and a few minutes of ranting later, there's a bored teenage employee unceremoniously telling them to get out, which is how they end up in the parking lot, Jensen stalking towards the car with Jared not far behind. "I can't believe you got us thrown out of the movies," Jensen says.

"I can't believe that that shit actually got released."

" _Thrown out of the theater_ , Jared. Christ, I hope none of people in there have a teenager or every parent in town will never let me hear the end of it."

"Minute I get home I'm looking up who directed that so I can tell him he should be shot for committing that piece of crap to film..." Jared continues his tirade, getting into all sorts of technical-sounding directing stuff that goes straight over Jensen's head, practically flailing his arms around the entire time. It's almost, well, Jensen wouldn't say adorable, but it's certainly something to see, Jared's little indignant expression, hair falling into his face, and the way he gestures wildly. Jensen bursts out laughing.

Jared trails off, looking at Jensen with a sort of amused confusion, before he starts chuckling too. "I look like a moron, don't I?" he asks.

"That ain't much different from normal, but yeah, you do."

"Fuck you, I look awesome. I hate you almost as much as I hate that fucking movie."

"Of course you do. I'll keep letting you believe that." Before he can think better of it, he lets out, "You wanna head back to my place awhile?"

Jared's expression goes hot, his eyes darkening with want and one corner of his mouth turning up in a smug sort of half-smile. That's not what Jensen intended with his invitation, but now that the suggestion is out there, a heat spreads through him, and it feels like his entire body is saying _yes, now, please_. "Sure," Jared answers, voice low and smooth, "That sounds great." Jensen shivers at his tone.

"Let's get going then," Jensen says, hoping that he doesn't sound too eager.

They climb into Jared's rental and in a few moments, they're on their way to the condo. Neither of them speaks on the way over, and the softly playing beat of some old rock song on the radio is the only sound in the car. The ride doesn't take long, and before Jensen can sort out what he wants from tonight, Jared pulls in front of the garage and puts the car in park. They get out, still silent, and walk the short distance to Jensen's front step. Jensen fumbles his keys at the door when he realizes just how close behind him Jared stands; he's near enough that Jensen would only have to lean back a little to put them in contact. It's a heady feeling, one of the many things about them together that makes Jensen want to grab on and hold tight despite all his confusion. Though it takes him an embarrassingly long amount of time, he manages to get the key in the lock and open the door.

They're barely inside a moment when Jared's on him, those huge hands coming up to slowly cup his face, holding him in place as Jared leans in for a kiss. It's not like the previous night, which was fire and desperation and the culmination of what had been building between them. There is no hard edge to this kiss. It is soft and melting, the gentle curl of Jared's tongue into his mouth, the brush of Jared's thumb along his jaw. It's slow and easy like they've got time stretched out before them. It is a hope that there is more to come.

When they finally part with wet mouths and harsh breaths, Jared's hands are still on him, warm and enticing, and Jensen is sorely tempted to go for another kiss. Instead he clears his throat and says, "Want a drink?"

"I could take a beer if you've got some."

"I think I've still got a couple. Just a sec." Jensen goes into the kitchen, decidedly not mourning the loss of Jared's touch, and grabs the last two bottles of beer from the refrigerator door. Beers opened, he walks back into the living room where Jared has made himself comfortable on the couch, with his legs splayed wide and one arm resting along the back. Jensen sits too and holds out one of the beers.

Jared accepts the offered bottle and takes a drink. He holds the drink in his lap and looks seriously at Jensen, a face Jensen can't read, but that makes him flush under the scrutiny anyway. "I didn't plan this," Jared blurts after a moment. "I didn't start talking to you hoping this would happen. When I said friends, that's what I meant."

"I believe you."

Jared starts a few times, clipped syllables that don't continue, like he doesn't know how to say what he's thinking. He finally spits out, "Come to L.A. with me."

"What?" Jensen couldn't have heard that right.

"I'm going back to California in a coupla days, and I'd like it if maybe you'd come with me." Jared sets his beer down on the coffee table and scoots closer. "You might not exactly be miserable, but you're not gonna be dancing in the streets anytime soon. We've got something here. Always have. I think we could _be_ something." He smiles, that same hope-nerves combo that reeled Jensen in all those weeks ago, and continues, "Hey, maybe it'd be easier to go after everything you used to want; y'know, Texas might not appreciate gays in politics, but California..."

"Yeah, I'll come away with you and then we'll live happily ever after," Jensen scoffs.

"I'm being serious."

"You're actually asking me to go with you? Really?" Jensen sets his drink down, stands, and gives Jared a hard look. He can't believe the sincerity he sees there and starts to pace the room. "You really are doing this. Jared, I can't."

"Why not?"

He throws up his hands. "Where the hell do I start? I've got a job, Jared, and this place, and my family a couple of hours away. I can't just take off."

"Your parents have Josh sticking around so it's not like you're leaving them alone. And you don't even like your job."

"This isn't about whether or not I like my job."

"It kinda is. You're not happy here, Jensen."

"So you think moving to California will magically fix all my problems? It doesn't work that way. 'Cause what'll you do about the press if you haul me out there and they figure out that you like guys too? You gonna run back here again to get away from them?"

"I can deal with the media if I have to," he says, sharp and loud with frustration. "All this stuff you're saying is bullshit, Jensen. Give me a real reason for you to stay here."

"I'm not rearranging my entire life for some relationship I don't even know will succeed! You and me, we're not those teenagers we used to be; we're so fucking different now. Everything's different and there're no guarantees we'll work out. We didn't before."

"I'm not trying to say that things'll be perfect!" Jared stands too, crossing the room so that they're only a step apart. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, and his hands are clenched in fists like that's the only thing keeping him from reaching out. He says, "I sound like a damned cliché, but we've got something that could be fucking _special_ , and I think it's worth at least trying, even if we do end up going down in flames. Don't you think we're worth trying?"

"Jared, I said no, and I'm not gonna argue with you." He backs away, putting some distance between them.

"So that's it? Just no, not thinking about it, nothing?"

"You don't get it..."

"No, no. I get it. You're too fucking scared to do anything but stick to your comfortable little life. You just like to play it safe. That's your problem Jensen… you always play it safe. Never take a fucking chance on anything. Even me. That's why you broke it off back then, isn't it?"

"Oh, don't you bring that up."

"Yeah, I'm bringing it up. You never gave me a reason and I deserved an explanation! Not just a, 'I think we shouldn't do this anymore' over the goddamned phone. But that was it. You're out there in Washington, and I'm all the way in California and you just decide that it can't possibly work. It was too much _risk_ , and you were too fucking afraid to fail. Just like your job. Teaching's safe and easy for you, so you fucking gave up on what you wanted before you could let yourself down."

"Screw you," Jensen bites out.

"What, did I hit a nerve there?"

"Fuck you! You don't know a fucking thing about me anymore. But you! Things may change, but you're still so damned impulsive. How many times have you just run into something without thinking, only to have it blow up in your face? If we're gonna talk ancient history, how about the time you outed us to our parents? Or all the times you nearly got us caught at school? Hell, did you even think about the consequences before you started this again last night? You were the one who kissed me; you're the one who didn't let us talk about it this morning. You're the one who wants me to drop everything and follow after you like a damned dog. You never fucking think."

"So that's what you think of me? That I'm a dumbass who doesn't think things through? Well, _I think_ you could fucking well do with being a little more impulsive."

"Yeah? Well look what it got you. Marriage and divorce."

"That has nothing to do with us."

"So your carelessness in relationships isn't a valid point now? The fact that it didn't work out when you recklessly married some woman isn't something I should be worried about?"

"Katie and me might not have worked out, but I did love her. And yeah, things suck now that it's ended, but I wouldn't trade it. Ever. When me and her were good...it was good. But you and me, we were better, Jensen. We were _better_. But I guess that doesn't matter."

Jared takes a moment, just breathing heavily and letting everything he's feeling show on his face. Between the hot frustration shining in his eyes and the tension in the lines of his forehead, Jared's hurt is clear and as sharp as the tone of his voice. He turns and leaves without another word. Jensen halfway expects him to slam the door on his way out, but he doesn't, letting it close with a soft _snick_ that's almost worse, more final. And Jensen is alone.

 

* * * * *

The four days following their fight are some of the most unpleasant in Jensen's recent memory. Even he has to concede that he spends most of the time in an undignified mope as he goes over the fight in his head, trying to figure out how everything went to shit so quickly. He keeps to his condo, leaving only on the first day to get enough alcohol to last him until Jared is gone, and ignores no less than two calls from his parents and five from Mike. Jensen spends most of his time on the couch with a beer, even once digging out some old high school photos in a fit of melancholy. All in all, Jensen considers it a pretty successful sulk. He's still not sure what he wants; until Jared left, he would've said he just needed things to go back to normal. But now it just feels like he's accidentally thrown away something important, like he's failed a test he didn't even know he was taking.

Friday afternoon is sunny but unseasonably cool, and it is the day when Jensen finally begins to feel the need to interact with the outside world. If he spends one more minute cooped up inside, he's going to do something stupid like call Mike and spill the whole stupid story, or worse, call _Jared_. Not caring where he goes, Jensen makes himself halfway presentable, throws on shoes, and heads out.

He's not three steps down the path between his door and the garages when he notices someone walking towards him. A very tall, very familiar someone whose presence makes Jensen feel all contorted inside. He stops where he is and lets Jared come to him. Jared's dressed in his usual casual, but he might as well be in a funeral suit to match the grimness on his face, his previous enthusiasm and hope all but gone. They face each other for a moment, only a few feet from Jensen's door, neither seeming to know what to say.

"Um, hi," Jared says at last, his gaze fixed on his own shoes like he can't bring himself to meet Jensen's eyes.

"Hi."

"I...I'm going back tomorrow. And I didn't want to leave things between us like this. I didn't mean...I wasn't going to bother you; I just wanted to leave this for you." Jared produces a folded white envelope from his jeans pocket. He offers the letter, and Jensen gently takes it, careful not to let their fingers brush. "I wanted to say, well, a lot of things. The rest is in the letter, but it all kind of boils down to I'm sorry. That's it, so, um, bye, Jensen." He turns and goes back down the sidewalk.

Jensen's heart is beating furiously as he watches Jared, going faster with each step further away Jared gets. He can't let Jared walk away, not yet. "Wait," he says. Jared pauses and looks back. Jensen holds up the envelope. "Tell me?"

Jared comes closer again, nerves clear as he rubs his palms against his thighs. "I'm sorry for everything I said the other night. Well, the part where I said… those things I said. I'm not sorry for caring about you, or for asking you to come to California. You said I'm impulsive, and yeah, I can be, and yeah it's a problem sometimes. But I didn't see asking you to come with me as one of those things. Even after you broke up with me, I still..." He looks at Jensen and bites his lip before continuing, "Can't say I didn't think it through if it's something I wanted since I was seventeen." He shrugs. "But it was too much; I get that. I just wanted us to have a chance. I think we can still have one.

"I get that you're not comfortable leaving Goodson, or having a long distance relationship, but I'm not ready to completely give up on us yet. So I'm leaving it up to you. You've got my cell number, and my home phone and email are in there." He gestures to the envelope still in Jensen's hand. "If you think we can sort things out… I'm hoping we can talk, really talk this time. Or not, if you don't want to. It's your decision." He meets Jensen's eyes, a penetrating look, like he's taking his final fill. "That's it, I guess. Pretty much everything I wrote."

"Okay," Jensen says.

"So I'll talk to you later, maybe. If not..." Jared runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture to match the devastated look in his eyes. "Then good-bye, Jensen."

Jared takes a few steps back before he turns and walks away in earnest, and Jensen lets him this time. Jensen stands there until Jared is out of sight before heading back for his door, the letter still clutched in his hand. Once inside, he drops the envelope on the table and flops down on the sofa. He's got a lot to figure out.

Hours later, Jensen is still on his couch, feet propped on the coffee table, staring at a blank spot on the wall like it can give him some sort of insight. Unfortunately, like the table and the floor and the television he stared at earlier, the wall stubbornly provides him with nothing. He's skipped dinner, has almost opened the letter six times, and he is, above all, really fucking confused.

There's a list in his mind, of all the practical reasons why he should stay right where he is. He has his carefully constructed life, which was going perfectly okay until Jared waltzed in. Had Jared never shown up, he would have been fine sticking it out in Goodson indefinitely. He's got family, job, and a home, all of it set in place. All of it easy. And while it should be so simple, he's no closer to a decision about what he wants to do about Jared.

What Jensen needs, he figures, is an outside opinion.

The other end of the line rings so long that it almost goes to voicemail, but Mike picks up on the last ring with a, "You bastard, it's twelve thirty, I've just gotten back from the most craptastic date in history, and where the hell have you been for the last week?"

"It's been a weird few days," Jensen says. He laughs, a small, brittle noise.

"Dude, what's up with you? You sound like shit."

"Fuck. It's Jared. Him and me..." He lets it out, the whole story from that night at the pool to their stupid fight to Jared's apology. He explains about Jared's offer, and how he reacted to it, and how Jared's leaving tomorrow afternoon, leaving Jensen with little more than a letter.

When he finishes, Mike says, "I knew this wasn't gonna end pretty."

"Yeah, well, at least you didn't say you told me so."

"I do have some discretion, you know. So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know! I don't know if I should call him, or forget all about him or what. Tell me what to do."

"Fuck, Jensen, what am I supposed to say? It's not like I can make the decision for you."

"I was hoping you could make it a little easier on me, though."

"I don't know, man. You're the only one who knows if you're gone enough over Jared to pack up everything and go with him. Or to work your ass off to keep it going when he's there and you're here. Hard as it is, this is something you gotta figure out for yourself. All I can do is be all supportive and shit no matter what you decide. I'm sorry I can't help you," Mike says, for once in his life sounding completely sincere.

"Yeah, you're the best friend ever." Jensen means it to come off sarcastic, but his tone falls short.

"So unless you wanna come over here and help me drown my sorrows over the worst date ever, I'm gonna go to bed and pretend most of tonight was a bad dream."

"I'll let you get to sleep. Thanks for listening to my crap."

"Hey, it's in the job description. Call me tomorrow and let me know you haven't died in a pool of your own vomit, you hear?"

"Sure. You can tell me all about your date."

"Dude, trust me, you don't wanna know."

"I'll take your word on that, then. Talk to you tomorrow." Jensen ends the call and tosses his phone to the other end of the sofa.

As Jensen sits and stares at the phone, one thing Mike said rings in his head: _if you're gone enough over Jared_. And that's the question.

He had never been happier than when he was with Jared, during both their year and a half history and this confusing and amazing summer. And while Jared could really stand to think things over more sometimes, Jensen had liked the silly and thrilling things they'd done. Jared burst back into his life, rearranging Jensen's careful comfort to make room for himself, made himself fit like no one else ever has. Jensen knows he loves Jared, really, truly, conquers-all loves him, despite their past and present problems. That, he realizes, is not something he has to debate. Jared makes Jensen _feel_...

As Jensen's practically determined, he loves Jared. And as hurtful as what Jared said was, he had a point. For nearly ten years, Jensen has lived his life so afraid of failing that he avoided ever risking anything, and the price for that safety was his goals. Giving up on his old dreams, never getting out of Goodson, even how he's kept himself safely in the closet and free of a serious boyfriend. If he never speaks with Jared again, it will be another in his long line of opportunities given up. His relationship with Jared will have been a failure. But if he keeps in touch, there's a chance. A chance for Jared, a chance to break the holding pattern he's been stuck in. He could email Jared, or even call him, and start fixing things right now.

Or he could stay in Goodson, stay at the high school. Have a secure income and home. Learn to live with a job he's good at instead of a career that calls him. Stay close to a good, if slightly crazy, friend. Maybe someday find a guy who's willing to keep a relationship quiet, and he can be happy. And maybe pigs will soar over the snowdrifts in hell.

There's only ever been one choice.

Jensen gets up and heads for his computer.

 

* * * * *

The airport isn't particularly crowded, just the normal bustle of families on summer vacations and white-collar workers setting off on business trips. Jensen weaves his way through them with the kind of determination he hasn't felt in a long time. He strides past shops and fast food restaurants, security personnel and harried travelers. Somewhere, a flight attendant calls out final boarding over a loudspeaker and he continues through the terminal, letting nothing distract him from finding the correct gate.

The waiting area is only half full when he gets there, so it's easy to spot Jared, whose height makes him stand out even when sitting. He's by himself in a seat near the giant window, and Jensen can see the waiting plane outside over his shoulder. His head is down, and he's got earbuds in, his foot subtly tapping to the beat of whatever he's listening to. Even at a distance, Jensen can tell that Jared looks about as bad as he feels – exhaustion in the hunch of his back, stress in the clench of his hands – and Jensen wonders if he and Jared shared the same sleepless night.

For the first time since arriving at the airport, Jensen pauses, watching Jared as his mind races. Like a thousand instances on the way over, he considers turning back. He could run all the way home, call or email Jared later like any sane person would do, like he had planned to up until the moment he decided to come here. But he's in the airport now, and he's got something to prove, not to Jared, but to himself. This isn't something he's giving up on.

The choice to leave is taken away from him, though, when Jared looks up and right at him. He watches as shock spreads over Jared's expression, the way his eyes widen and his mouth parts, how he sits up a little straighter. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Jensen walks over and takes the seat next to Jared.

"Jensen? What are you doing here?" he asks, all surprise and tampered-down hope.

"Getting on a plane," Jensen answers, going for nonchalance and missing the mark entirely. "That's what people usually do in airports, doofus."

"Jensen. _What are you doing here_?"

"I... I wanted... I was hoping..."

He tries, but he can't say it, can't articulate everything he's felt and thought and wished for over the past day, not with Jared right there. He can't tell Jared, so he does the next best thing and leans over for a quick kiss. It's a fleeting thing, lips meeting for a fraction of a moment before Jensen pulls away again, the most he's willing to do where anyone could be watching them. But it's electric all the same, the familiar current of want mixing through the fear that's been running through him since he made his decision.

"Jensen?" Jared sounds young, and scared, like he's afraid Jensen might break his heart. "Tell me what's going on?"

Jensen pulls his boarding pass out of his pocket and hands it to Jared, pointing to where it says _Dallas to Los Angeles_. "I'm doing something spontaneous," he says.

Jared gasps, looking back and forth between Jensen and the ticket as he stutters out, "You're coming to California?"

"If the invitation still stands."

"Just for now or...?"

"I was thinking for good," Jensen says. "Again, if...if you still want me to."

Jared struggles to keep hope from coloring his expression, corners of his mouth barely turning upwards in anticipation of a smile. "What about your job and everything else?"

"I can find a new job, and they can deal without me. I can sell the condo, Mike can find new people to annoy, and I don't see my parents that often anyway. I know we won't be perfect, and I know we've gotta talk, but I'm willing. I want to give it a shot." He looks to Jared, trying to project everything he's feeling, all the hope and uncertainty. "So what do you say?"

Jared gives up the fight against his grin, letting it spread across his face, and it's the most wonderful thing Jensen's ever seen. Jared puts his hand over Jensen's on the armrest, lacing their fingers loosely together in an affirmation more subtle than a kiss. "You know," Jared says, "I'm going to need a date for my next high school reunion. Maybe you could fill the spot."

"Well, maybe. When exactly would it be?" Jensen smiles back as he begins to believe he can have this.

"Oh, in about ten years."

"I think I can keep my schedule clear."


End file.
